Ever and Ever
by WildflowerWhisper
Summary: Rohan is withering under the weight of the War. Calahdra Medlinniel, however, is falling in love. A Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Calahdra is young, damaged, and driven by duty. Yet how could she give her life for her people when she now has so much to live for?
1. Chapter 1: Sighting

The wind was playing with the Snowbourne, and the sun caressed its rippling surface as it set behind the White Mountains. I sat on a hill before the river, my knees tucked beneath my chin, hair loose and untamed about my face. Behind me, my mare whinnied impatiently. She knew as well as I that as night fell over the Westemnet, the fields and moors of Rohan became dark and pernicious. That death followed travelers at night like their shadows did during the day.

I stood wearily, my body aching from my long held seat on the hillside. Long had I watched the Snowbourne that day, following is constant currents with my weary eyes. What I sought for, I knew not, but my heart told me that soon, whatever it was that I was missing, I would find. And find it, I did.

I rode back to Edoras with but a little haste. Meduseld, as grand as it was, had become a prison for many, and my heart wished not to be locked up once more. What with the ailing King and his pet snake ever at his side, there was little to celebrate within the great Hall. It had been a home to me for little more than two months, and yet for all its coldness and near cruelty, due mostly to the gloom that came creeping about with the rumors of war, it had been the kindest home I had ever known.

With Meleare stabled and groomed, I retired to my quarters unnoticed much to my gratification. My presence had become a constant thorn in Wormtongue's side, but he was too much of a coward to confront me, and instead prodded some of the burlier, less respectable soldiers into harassing me. But it bothered me little, for I was use to such talk and was fairly sure that I could take them if their tormenting ever came to a fight.

I began to settle in for the night and sat at my dressing desk. I brushed at my hair, staring at the drapes fluttering about my window. I turned back, and was suddenly stilled by the reflection that stared back at me.

My appearance had been the topic of most of the few conversations my mother had ever had with me. She had accused me of being "boyish", "unladylike", "wild", and "uncouth". Her comments rarely fazed me, for she was the only person to ever comment on my looks. This in itself told me that if she was right, then others would have noticed it as well.

I could admit that my looks were strange, almost unnatural for woman of Rohan. Instead of the typical womanly hips and tall figure, I was entirely different. I was almost dangerously thin, with nearly no curves at all. My skin was the color of wheat, golden and warm, and I discarded the fashion of wearing my hair long and braided by cutting it to the length of my collarbone. My hair, even, was an unusual color. It was the color of bronze, a sort of reddened chestnut that drew odd looks, for women of Rohan were almost always blonde.

Of my face, I had a thin nose, high cheeks, and a gentle brow, positioned liltingly over grey eyes. My eyes, of all things, were the one thing that my mother seemed proud of. They were deep, so deep that many had difficulty meeting my gaze, and were marbled with different shades of blue, grey, and lavender, and contained by long, red-black lashes.

Of course, my odd appearance was to be expected, for my mother was half-elven, a fact that was kept hidden from many. How she had come to exist, I had never known, and why she had chosen the world of mortals over the legendary halls and domains of elves, I could not ask, for my mother could be described in one word: cold.

I had never truly thought of her as a mother, for one so silent and shrewd could not have born one as high-strung and merry as me. She had always resented my energy, as well as my affinity with nature and human beings, and as time progressed, she became bent to beat my enthusiasm out of me. Instead of swimming and climbing trees, I was forced to study music, literature, language, and math. It was not these things did not disinterest me, for I seemed to have been born with some natural and undeniable curiosity for knowledge, but my pride was badly bruised by my mother's curtailing of my true passions.

I had grown up in a small southern fief on the border of the Firien Wood and the Mering Stream, not but a few leagues from Gondor. The people of my father's province adored me, but they held a harsh bitterness for my parents. Ada and Naneth, as I had called them after supplementing elvish into as much of my speech as possible, were just leaders, but lent little compassion to their people. And it was rued by some that my mother was clearly not Rohirric, what with her raven black hair and pale gold skin, and that she remained locked up in her quarters throughout the year.

But the people of my fief had always adored me, and naturally, when my mother began the "re-conquering" of her own daughter, the villagers I had known my whole life were quite simply appalled. And as I grew, I saw less and less of the rest of the outside world. I was sequestered away to such a point were I went mad. Quite truly mad. I began seeing things were they did not exist, hearing voices in my head, waking screaming from nightmares of suffocation and containment. Eventually, my mother gave up, and with the first chance she got, Naneth shipped me away to Edoras to serve as a maid to the King.

As it turned out, Meduseld already had enough handmaids, and my mother's obvious and well known ignorance of Rohirric custom allowed me to slip into the much more conventional role as a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Of course, men looked at me with skepticism. 'How could a scrawny thing like that wield a weapon?' they would ask. Little did they know that I had been able to wield a longsword since I was seven, and had hit a bull's-eye with a longbow at five from over two hundred paces away.

My assorted talents certainly filled out a long list, but in honesty, they didn't seem to matter. For I was _that_ girl. The one that no one talked to, that everyone looked at but never noticed. The one that people were afraid to laugh at yet laughed at anyways to wash away their fear.

The pain had never escaped me, yet I had become a master at pushing it back. I held my head high and kept my eyes clear, for my life was a constant hazard. I did not cry, ever. It was a source of pride for me, that no matter how hard life became, the tears did not fall. That every strike and every scar had earned nothing more than a wince. I was strong, I knew it, and yet every day of my life seemed to be a struggle in which I fought to convince myself of that.

And with my thoughts buried in dark memories, I succumbed to the growing dark of night and fell into something like sleep.

The next day was much the same. I woke early to complete my chores and training, and then rode to the Snowbourne, settling on the same hill as the day before about an hour before sun-rise. This time, I had brought a grindstone and set to sharpening my daggers and hunting knife.

Behind me, Meleare snickered to herself softly as she cropped the grasses and herbs growing on the hillside. I reached out every once and a while to stroke her foreleg, and she would blow warm air at my face in thanks.

Meleare had been the one constant companion I had ever had. She was very young, as war horses went, for she had been a gift on my thirteenth birthday. My mother had hated the prospect of her daughter riding a creature designed to kill, but my Ada was Marshall of the Fenmarch, and so he encouraged every bit of protection I could harbor for myself. Meleare was more than a shield though, she was a friend.

The sun rose relatively quickly. I was surprised at how well I could distract myself from whatever it was that was haunting me. My irrational obsession was something I could not explain with words. All I could understand was that my heart seemed to be tugging towards the land beyond the Snowbourne, as if some magnet had caught hold of my soul and was dragging me away to the north with an undeniable force. Yet I sat still on the hillside, confident that eventually whatever it was that was pulling me would give up and come to me.

It was just after dawn when I saw them. Three horses, one a brilliant white, another grey, another chestnut, were racing towards Edoras. I rose, watching as they sped through the Snowbourne and continued up the hill to the city. I watched after them for but a half-second before leaping onto Meleare bareback and charging after them. I kept a fair distance behind them and they did not appear to notice me, for I was quiet and Meleare's footfalls were light. They slowed only as they passed by the funeral mounds of the court. When they took back to the reigns, I followed them to the city gates, and watched them dismount as they were confronted by first several wary soldiers, and then the gate keeper, who led them to Meduseld. I continued following before reaching the stables. I dismounted when they did, watching the riders cloaked backs anxiously as I handed Meleare to a stable groom and raced through the city quickly to the servant's entrance of Meduseld. I made my way to the hall via the kitchens and stood encased in shadows beneath a pillar.

I did not appear to be the only one absolutely shocked at the four figures now striding purposefully towards Théoden 's throne.

The center most figure and most prominent to my eyes was an old, grey haired man. I would not have noticed him if it were not for the way my skin seemed to crawl at the sight of him. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but rather a warning to me that his man was more than he appeared, and he did not appear to be much at all.

The man next to him was handsome and dark, with a rough mane of black hair about his head and a regal spark to his weathered eyes. My skin itched as I beheld him as well.

On the other side of the elderly man was a shockingly short and stout figure. I knew at once that he was a dwarf, but never had I ever expected to see one of his kind. Thick was his dark hair and beard, and he looked quite fearsome, but the wrinkles about his eyes told me that he was a merrier fellow than he now appeared.

I was glad that I looked at those three before the last, for it seemed that as I beheld him, little else mattered to my eyes.

Tall, stately, sculpted. He was a creature out of a fantasy. His golden locks shone even in the dim light of Meduseld, and his bright grey-green eyes sparkled furiously. He had a high forehead, straight nose, and full, almost feminine lips. His layered tunics and cloak could not hide his toned body, and not an inch of him was more or less than what it should have been.

Perfection was the only word that truly seemed to do him justice.


	2. Chapter 2: Falling

Just as I stood out from the column, trying to find a new angle to admire him from, his eyes met mine. I froze.

At first, the power of his eyes assaulted me. A great wave of power and emotion nearly overwhelmed me, and his eyes seemed to be the only things holding me upwards. As I fought to remain upright while also breaking the grasp of his eyes, his brow furrowed slightly, a single crease dividing his perfect forehead.

His brow arched as he looked at me, and almost at once his eyes softened. He seemed to sway a little, as if debating whether or not to come to me, yet he remained, and turned once more to the King.

I watched after him. My mind made little sense of what happened afterwards. Words were exchanged between the worm and the old man, and the three other riders took defensive stances behind him. My eyes were glazed over, my mind trapped in a perpetual state of replaying what had occurred before, until a single crack and flash of light much like lightening broke through my wandering mind.

Gasps lit throughout the hall, and I looked to Wormtongue to see him sprawled out over the steps leading to the King's throne. Théoden stood, and Eowyn, who had been waiting as always at her uncle's side, came to him. The old man, now clad in brilliant white, bade her away.

I clutched at my pillar, feeling somewhat light-headed. It seemed quite pitiful that I had missed whatever it was that passed between the man, Gandalf, he was called, and the King. Yet, I was glad for it, for Wormtongue seemed to be a threat no more. Theoden now stood at the doors of Meduseld, and the cool wind played with the hair of all in the room. Only one set of locks captured my attention, though. Pure gold seemed to be tickling the air behind the man, and several sections of it were braided and bound with beads. Like rays of the sun, I thought, brandishing their haughty warmth against the grey sky.

I was aware of his presence behind me at once.

"My lady, are you well?"

His voice was so soft, like the caress of a flower petal against one's skin.

I turned, mustering some strength at the glorious sight of him, to my surprise. "Yes, my lord, I am."

His eyes met mine and he smiled at me. "May I ask your name, my lady?"

I smiled back, "Yes, for my lady is far too formal for a shieldmaiden," his lips twitched at this, which sent my heart into a furious rampage throughout my chest. "My name is Calahdra, my lord. Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch,"

His smooth brow creased once more, though not as severely as before.

"My lord?" I asked.

"That is a powerful, name, Calahdra. One with elvish roots,"

At once, I understood his perfection. He was an elf. Oddly, I felt a sudden relief at this, as well as an intimate sense of kinship with him.

"My mother is half-elven," I relayed, my voice quiet. I had never told anyone that, especially not a stranger, and yet this man seemed to pull everything from me, whether it be my heart, my words, or my smile.

The crease tightened for a moment, and then relaxed as he smiled. My heart looped around my stomach.

"Well, then Calahdra, Saesa omentien lle. My name is Legolas," (Pleasure meeting you)

"Quel amrun, Heru en amin Legolas," (Good morning, my lord Legolas)

He smiled once more, flashing a set of perfect teeth at her. "But tell me, Calahdra, how is it that you have come here?"

"My father is...was, Marshall of Fenmarch, a fief southwest of here. My mother governs that area of land when he is unable to," My throat constricted at this. It was impossible to tell anyone the truth about my Ada, and Legolas, although intoxicatingly charming, was no exception.

"Incredible," he mussed, seeming entranced with me. Little did Legolas know that he had stolen the word right out of my own mouth.

He continued staring at me for sometime, his eyes tracing my face again and again. His scrutiny of my features would have bothered me, made me blush even, but I was too preoccupied looking him over as well.

"Legolas! Leave the poor thing alone! Come, Gandalf wishes to speak to us,"

Legolas tore his eyes from me and looked down at Gimli, who was resting a very imposing axe on one of the steps leading up to the walkway that ran about the perimeter of the Hall. I looked over the stout dwarf.

"She's not poor, Gimli, quite the contrary. But I will come, if Mithrandir wishes it," Legolas said, an amiable twinkle visible in his verdant eyes. He turned to me. "Will I see you soon, Arwenamin?" (My Lady)

"Yes, I am sure of it, Heruanim. And, as I said before,"my lady" is far to bold a title for me. I am but a maid in these halls, and little more than another sword when in battle," I admitted, a blush finally painting my cheeks. Legolas smiled, a gentleness coming to his smooth face that made me feel at ease at once.

"Aieriel, I name you then, for you are very small to claim that you can wield a long sword among these other men," ("eye-eer-aye-ell", a mixture of "small one" and "valiant maiden") he said, gesturing to the pockets of haggard soldiers about the hall.

I gave him a crooked grin. "Oh, master elf, I can wield a sword. I can wield a sword very well,"

Legolas looked at me for a moment, an odd look on his face. It took me a few moments to realize what he could have confused my words for. I let out a small gasp of horror.

"No! No, that isn't what I meant!" I insisted, feeling flustered. What a fool I was!

He smiled once more. "Well, I certainly hope not, Aieriel, for you are far too young to wield a sword _that_ way," I bit my lip as he said this, for he seemed to be both teasing me and chastising me at the same time.

Just as I began to turn away, he reached out to me, his fingers grazing my shoulder. His voice lowered, "Perhaps I will be able to witness this skill you claim to possess sometime,"

It was my turn now to stare, feeling a sudden heat course down my spine. Legolas laughed, his voice the sound of rain carried on a summer breeze. "Tenna' telwan san', Aieriel," (Until next we meet) he said, his voice still shaking with laughter. I managed a weak smile before regaining my composure. Staring at his back as he returned to the center of the Hall, I called after him "Tenna' San', Heruanim,"(Until then, my lord)

I returned to my shadowy refuge, and kneeled safely out of sight behind the pillar. I would never truly come to realize the impact of that meeting on the rest of my life, nor the way it would change the world I lived in forever. But in that moment, I could scarcely remember my own name.

The day passed into evening. I stayed indoors within the living quarters of Meduseld. Fate mocked me as always, and I was assigned to arranging the quarters for the visitors. Although Gandalf had passed off permanent rooms as a convenience that they did not have time for, they would need a place to stay for the night, and I had been assigned to the task of making such arrangements when I had arrived in Edoras.

I assigned several maids to the task of cleaning out two of the guest rooms in the main housing complex, and set to finding suitable closing for the four. I ransacked several laundries and abandoned closets, as well as the morgue. Although I was not friendly with the staff of Meduseld, the common folk that worked in the grounds of the palace had come to adore me. They reminded me much of the friends I had lost in Fenmarch, and it was easy for me to return to the amiable and trustworthy peasants that I had always adored.

Marmagen (mar-ma-jen), head laundress of the barracks, had taken me under her wing at once. She was a pudgy, middle-aged woman who had abandoned her husband when she had learned that she was incapable of baring children. Her reckless attitude and haughty attitude had drawn me in at once, and I had soon found myself at her side, helping with laundry and gossiping with her about the lives of other townsfolk.

I consulted her at once, desperately in need of finding new clothing for the strangers.

"I can probably find something, sweet. Now tell me, were any of these men good looking. Were any of them sweet on you? Because I can whack em' if they were," she said, entirely honest.

I laughed, and as I did so, I could feel that my laughter was off, the sound too high and sharp. "No, no, Marma. Trust me, I think I scared them all, if anything," I told her, although feeling guilty at the partial lie.

Marmagen smiled, the skin around her eyes wrinkled with sun and laughter. Yet, some part of her seemed disappointed. "Well, you're bound to find one sometime," she murmured, turning back to her wash.

"What, clothes Marma? I'm sure to find some here," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I knew what the laundress had meant, but I wished fervently to deny it.

Marma smiled gently, and looked back at me. "Child you know what I meant. You're too smart to be that daft," Her gritty voice had taken on a new tone, one I had not heard from her before.

"Cal, girls your age aren't fighting men twice their age or racing horses. They're finding men to marry, men who'll become the fathers of their children," I blushed at once. I had never expected her to say anything like this. And yet she stared me seriously in the eye, waiving her laundry paddle in the air as she spoke. "You, girl, are no exception, regardless of how good you are at fighting, or the way you can speak to horses like they're people. People in Rohan think you're strange cause of the way you look, but girl, I've never seen anyone with more of Rohan in their heart. And these strangers you speak of, well, I haven't seen em', but if any of them are young enough for a girl like you, I bet you'd win em' over with a look,"

I stared at Marmagen, and the way she looked back told me that the expression on my face was highly skeptical. And yet her perception was terrifying. The way that Legolas had looked at me was exactly the way that I had stared at him, and I knew that my gawking at his perfection was a testament to the way I had fallen for him.

But love him? I couldn't tell. Love was a mystery to me. My parents had not loved each other, and no boy or man had ever expressed any purely romantic interest in me.

Falling, loving...they both seemed as deadly as fighting to me.


	3. Chapter 3: Focus

When I had completed my chores for the day, I fetched my bow and went to the archery range. I often spent my afternoons there, practicing my aim and proving my worth to nearby soldiers. There was no doubt that I was a better shot than any of them, but that I owed in part to my elvish blood. Elves were surpassingly quick and had heightened senses that were far superior to any man's.

I found my skill to be lacking that day, for my mind was not focused. Whenever I envisioned my arrow striking the center of a target, Legolas' face was all I could see. My immature infatuation frustrated me. Certainly a single man could not interfere so drastically with a talent that had always come natural to me. And yet my accuracy had visibly decreased a great deal.

Perhaps it was no girlish crush, however.

Perhaps that longing in my soul, which had ruled my conscience for a week, and that now had disappeared all together, had been warning me of this elf. Perhaps this was what I had been searching for.

I shook my head, though, and worked doubly hard to block all thoughts of golden hair or pointed ears from my mind.

An hour or so passed, and I had tuned out the sounds and sights around me, honing my focus as best I could. Yet for all my mental shielding, a single voice easily penetrated my ears.

"You clearly have great skill, Aieriel,"

I nearly jumped at the honey-sweet voice, but my focus kept me cool, and I turned without falter to the elf behind me.

"Mae Govannen, Legolas," I said, shielding my eyes from the sunlight haloing his face as I looked up at him. He surveyed me with warm eyes, and I could not help but sigh a little at the glorious sight of him. "Yet today it seems that my skill has been impeded on,"

"You must be worried about something, then. What is it that is troubling you?" he asked.

I paused for a moment, weighing the risks of telling him the truth. They seemed to greatly outweigh the pros in that moment, and so I skimmed around the truth and gave him only a few outlying causes of my unrest.

"Well, firstly, because the king has been "awakened", so to speak, he will surely take military action soon. Part of me wishes not to be uprooted from Edoras, for it has been my home these last two months," the sardonic tone in my voice could not edge out the sadness, and I loosed another arrow far too soon, so that it glanced off the target I had aimed for and landed on the ground before it. A low curse escaped my lips.

Legolas listened to my complaint with concern, and when I finished, he pulled his own bow, a handsome and clearly princely object, from his back and loosed an arrow all in a split second. I raised my brows in amazement.

"You have great skill yourself," I pointed out.

Legolas gave me a polite smiled. "Indeed. Archery is my passion," he stated simply. He turned back to the target then and shot two more arrows in quick succession.

"I too know what it is like to have war uproot you from your home. I know the fear that accompanies such a thing," Legolas turned back to me, "It is never a welcomed feeling, to lose a place you called home. But such is life, meleth, and we have no sway in the workings of the Valar,"

I nodded solemnly, and turned back to my own target, this time hitting my mark squarely. To my surprise, Legolas continued.

"I left everything I knew, everything I could have had. I threw away any chance at a life of peace. I knew the consequences of my actions, Calahdra. I knew what my duty was, and what I had to do. But a sense of duty certainly does not lessen the pain,"

I looked at him, a thousand questions clear in my eyes. He did not look back, and instead of questioning him further, I watched the muscles of his shoulder ripple with power as he loosed another arrow. The way his body leaned and curled with the flex of his bow. How his eyes followed the arrow to its mark, and how his fingers followed a definite routine of retrieving and knocking another arrow without question or hesitation.

After three more of his arrows were let loose, he looked back at me.

"Why did you leave?" I asked, the most obvious of any of the questions I could have asked.

Legolas grew silent and still, as if he was being hunted by some predator.

"That is my own business,"

His voice was cold and bitter, almost desolate with a lack of emotion. Yet his response was so forced that I wondered if he wished he could tell me.

"Then what is the story you are telling people? For an elf could not possibly have come to Edoras on a whim of pleasure, especially one who carries heavy arms," I asked, refusing to be abashed by his brusque reply.

Legolas glared at me, and I nearly choked on my own tongue at the look of rage in his eyes. But at the sight of me, wide eyed and defensive, he gentled, and he seemed to shrink a little.

"I am sorry, Calahdra. My business is my own. I wish, so very much, that I could tell you. But I cannot,"

I looked back at my target, feeling solemn. There was true pain in his voice. Pain caused my the loss of so very much, but also the feeling of drowning in more than you can survive.

"What will you do now, now that you seem pledged to Theoden?" For all the pain I was causing him, I could not constrain my questioning, much to my chagrin.

"I follow Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and my fate will be his,"

He said this as if it was a recitation, something he had practiced aloud.

"Even if his fate is death?" I asked, my head cocked to the side.

"Yes, even if his fate is death," he whispered, loosing another arrow.

We were silent for a time, left to ponder our fates. I was uncertain of my future in that moment. I had always imagined myslef dying at my King's side, protecting him with all the life I had left. And yet suddenly, standing beside this elf, that future seemed hazy, almost improbable. I did not know why I felt this way, nor did I wish to find out why.

Legolas, however, seemed fairly certain of his future, as vague as it was. The thought of him dying, however, was enough to send me into a cycle of panic and incredulity.

"What else troubles you?" Legolas asked, clearly sensing at my mood with whatever elvish power he possessed.

I tried desperately to reign in my feelings of confusion, but my scrambled attempt at even more focus alarmed Legolas. He came to me, one hand curved over his mahogany bow, the other coming to rest on my shoulder. I looked at him, perplexed. He smiled softly and shook his head. "Let me try again. Calahdra, please tell me," He coaxed, is voice so low it was nearly seductive.

His coercion might have worked on a human woman, but I was not as entirely subject to his wiles as a woman, and therefore I shook my head.

"It is complicated, Legolas. And for all your compassion, I do not have the heart to tell you,"

"That is fair enough," he responded, and turned away. "If that is so, then let us return to our archery, for it is as great a panacea as any,"

We carried on in companionable silence for a while more, and as the sun began to set, I packed my bow and retrieved my arrows.

"I enjoyed spending time with you," Legolas said as he bent to pick up one of his own arrows.

I nodded at him in agreement, and stood to farewell him as my last arrow was found.

"As did I, Legolas. I hope to see you at supper,"

"You shall,"

We stared at each other for a moment, allowing the sounds of soldiers, horses, and weaponry to sink into silence. His unblinking eyes held mine fast, and yet I got the sense that my eyes captivated him as much as his own did mine. The feeling was strange to me, and I looked away first.

"Tenna' san'" I said, pulling my quiver tighter over my shoulder.

"Namaarie, aieriel,"

I turned away and fled to my bedroom, where the feelings within me could manifest themselves in whatever wrath they choose without the sensitivities of an elf I had surely fallen for catch me.


	4. Chapter 4: Facade

Suppertime was always an anxious event for me. There were few women who kept a permanent residence in Meduseld, and I was one of them. Because I was not truly a maid, I was obligated to supp with the other dignitaries and war-leaders in the Hall. Besides Eowyn, I was the only other woman to join the men at suppertime.

Tonight, however, was an exception to the reasons for my anxiety.

If Legolas was there, then my normally mousy, plain façade would be cracked. He seemed to have a way of bringing out my youthful side, the bit of me my mother had tried to break away.

I put on my evening gown, trading my earth-toned robes and leggings for a light blue dress trimmed with white. It fit me snuggly, embracing my scant curves and willowy frame. I also combed out my hair, and instead of twisting up out of my face as usual, I instead let it lay on my back, full, shiny, and wavy.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was dressing up, but I knew that it mostly had to do with Legolas. His perception of me seemed key in my mind, although such a thought was foreign to me.

As I walked into the Hall, I looked for him at once.

He wasn't there.

Part of me felt betrayed. He had said he would be there, and yet he was gone. I listed possible causes of delay in my mind, trying to rationalize his absence. Rationalization had never been one of my talents.

But to panic over a single stranger's absence? That seemed silly, almost outrageous. I barely knew this elf, for we had spent but perhaps two hours together.

Yet there was a single, pulsating rift in my chest where my heart had once been and I knew it was because of him.

Supper wore on as always, just a little worse than usual.

That night, I wrapped myself in one of my softest blankets, trekked out from my quarters, and sat on a cliff face behind Meduseld. I stared after the mountains, letting a frigid breeze paint my face red.

A feeling much like misery consumed me.

How long had it been since I had felt this way? How long had it been since the feelings of loss, of guilt, of regret fall down upon me like the little bits of frost that did now.

It had been long enough, I knew. Long enough that I was due for a dose of desolation and grief.

All the thoughts in my head had conjoined to form a single image. There was me, surrounded by a thousand faceless images, with me screaming out in pain, and everything else laughing in ecstasy at my shrieks of agony.

I attempted to push the thought away, but I lost that battle, as always. So instead of fighting and surely losing, I simply yielded, feeling empty and swollen all at once.

The plains of Rohan are an engrossing scene to look upon. The wind rips at the vegetation in an exceedingly violent way, tearing at the long stalks of grain and grass, stirring up what rocky dust remains looped within the roots of the sparse greens. In the darkness, I could not see the rippling, golden waves of wheat. And yet I knew that they were being tortured by the howling, unyielding force called wind nonetheless.

Simply because you can not see something in pain, and just because its screams have gone unheard, does not mean that it is not dying.

The silence I had wrapped myself in did not mean that I was not withering, too.

I promised myself to stay alive, to stay alive so that I might die an honorable death beside my King. So that my life would not have been spent in vain, as it so often seemed. An yet, to die, I thought, would certainly destroy the uncertainty that seemed to rule my life.

I so very badly wished that someone might find me, sitting here, in this lonely dark. I wished that they might hold my trembling body, whisper things to me that made sense. Things that could remind me of brighter days, where the sun was warm and the wind was gentle.

There was no such person now, and in all likelihood there never would be.

But that thought led me to the poignant and powerful subject of Legolas.

He had certainly captivated my interest, and the way he had seemed to uproot the way I prioritized my life was alarming at the least. Yet his company was comfortable, even though it was quite contrarily exhilarating. Beautiful, yet terrifying. Healing, yet so incredibly painful.

I could have listed the multitudes of paradoxes currently divining my life, but that certainly would have sent me to sleep.

Instead of fixating over the impossibility of my feelings for the elf I barely knew, I let his face simply loom within my consciousness, letting his voice drift on the screams of the wind. He calmed my pulse and found me peace even in my waking dreams. Perhaps this obsession, this sudden mania that he had catapulted my once dreary life into, was a good thing. Perhaps, just maybe, I would be alright.

"My lady?"

I woke with a leap and a gasp.

It seemed that I had fallen asleep where I had lain, and it was well past mid-morning when a soldier found me.

The absolute confusion in his eyes amused me, for I was sure that finding a young woman curled amongst rocks and lichens on a cliff face was far from what he was expecting to find along his watch-route.

"My lady?" he asked again, and it was clear that in his stupor he wasn't sure how to say anything else.

"I am fine, sir. Please, don't mind me," I said, and I turned away, crawling back up the cliff face and heading to my quarters.

I spent the rest of the morning dozing in bed. I was not in a mood to be bothered or stirred, and if my presence was necessary, then I assumed someone could come find me. But when I was in moods such as this, sleep was generally the only thing I could manage.

The sun flickered over my face, and the sounds of the streets settled into a monotonous drone before long. I faded in and out of sleep, and although I was not tired, my gentle lazing helped to bring me peace, for the darkness within me seemed to be quenched by the light I was laying in.

At last, I drew myself from my bed, dressed in a tunic and breeches, and went to the stables. I was still caught in a state of groggy, half-consciousness, but I was awake enough to dodge the horses and soldiers in the courtyards and lawns between the stables.

I went to Meleare in her stable, and I rested my head against her haunches.

i"_Are you well, Calahdra? You seem only half-alive,"_ /i she said, speaking into my mind.

i _"I am, meleth. I have slept long this day,"_ /i I said, and I reached for a comb, with which I polished her coat. She flexed and twitched beneath the pleasurable touch.

i_"Why would that be? Did your lovemaking keep you up late?"_ /i 

I smiled. Ever since Meleare had caught on to the inner-workings of sarcasm, she had made my life quite interesting.

i_"No,"_ /i was my quiet response, as I shook my head gently.

She seemed to sense that I was in no mood for talk, and so she let me groom her in silence as she munched on hay.

I clipped a rope onto her halter in order to lead her to her paddock. As a farewell gift, my mother had given me enough allowance to afford a private paddock for Meleare. Gifts such as those had become common before I left, and I viewed them as guilt-gifts, given to me out of self-loathing and not genuine love.

But nonetheless, I was quite thankful for it. Meleare received the space and pasture she needed, and I could let her be without fear of other horses or men harassing her.

Meleare's good fortune, however, could not keep men from harassing me.

Still lethargic, I led Mel out of her stable and towards her paddock, only to be blocked by three large soldiers. Behind me stood two others, who were chuckling to themselves softly. My mind awoke at once, and I stood tall, mustering all of my courage.

"Hello, little one. You look uncharacteristically slow today. Late night?" the middle soldier asked, jeering and cruel.

I pushed past him, using Meleare as my buffer. They would not dare try anything violent with a two ton warhorse about.

But the man, for one who reeked so badly of ale and liquor, was surprisingly quick, and he caught me from the behind at once.

Mel began to get nervous, and she stamped her foot loudly against the paver stones.

"Get off," I growled, ripping at the man's hands about my middle. Curling my fingers into claws, I dug my nails into the tendons in his wrists and he leapt back with a cry. "Stay away from me," I hissed once more, but another man came forward, his eyes shining with spirits and lust.

"Come 'ere, lil' 'ore," he mumbled, reaching out for me blindly. I turned around, and pulled Mel with me, making for the door. Mel was tapping at my consciousness, wanting to speak to me, but I needed all the focus I could, and ignored her.

"Come back, wench! Don't be feisty!" one of the men called, and I doubled my speed.

Gold flashed before me, and two emeralds wrapped about a furious flame caught my gaze.

"Legolas?" I breathed, pausing for a moment. But the sight of him was too much, too much to add to the many troubles upon me now. I pushed past him as well, and led Meleare to her paddock. leaving the foul, drunken soldiers behind me.


	5. Chapter 5: Woven

Once she was safe within fencing and gates, I collapsed, my back pressed hard against a fence post. My head fell to my hands, and I went to pieces for only a moment before standing up again.

Men had said such things to me before. They had touched me, put there hands about me, whispered lewd things in my ear. I never let it bother me. But for a soldier, an honored individual of the King's guard to say such things to me? Impossible.

I shook my head, but that triggered a headache like none other I had experienced before. Holding onto my forehead, I focused on a gentle light within my head, kneading at the source of the pain with a bit of my own healing power. Eventually, the pain lapsed, and I sighed, sinking to the ground once more.

I shrieked as I sat on someone's booted foot.

Legolas chuckled for a moment, pulling his foot from out beneath me. His laughter died as he sat beside me, letting his long legs unfurl before him, one knee bent causally, the other foot lying to the side. We must have been a sight, he two of us. What with Legolas, long, lanky, and stretched out beneath a fruit tree, and me, plain and quivering, my hair floating about my face.

"Sut naa lle?" (are you well) he asked quietly, looking at me.

I nodded a little, trying not to jar my still aching temple.

"Headache?" he asked.

"Yes," was my weak reply.

Gently, he brought his palms to the sides of my head, twisting his torso so that he was facing me. "May I help?" he asked.

I stared up at him, my heart beating wildly and my eyes frozen open. I gave him a single, slight nod. He closed his eyes.

I felt something cool surround my temple at once, as if a mist of cool rain was wrapped about my head. Then, a warmth spread throughout my entire body, and when he opened his eyes, my head was free of pain and I was entirely awakened.

"Hannon lle," I whispered, staring up at him again. He still had not removed his hands from my temple, and the contact made my head spin.

He smiled, his grin slow and seductive. I took a wavering breath to still my pulse, but it did little good.

Then, after a few moments of heart-racing, inexplicable emotion, he pulled away, and moved so that he sat cross legged before me.

"Where did you learn to heal?" I asked, genuinely curious as I usually was about him.

"Mirkwood is considered to be the capital of healing, meleth. It was not as though I had a choice," he replied, laughing. He did not appear to have noticed that I had frozen in shock.

"Mirkwood?" I squeaked. He noticed my unmoving form once I had spoken.

"Yes," he replied, quietly. He looked down for a moment, plucking a blade of dead grass from the earth. "I am sorry, Calahdra. It is too easy to be honest around you. I am not sure why I can not better guard my tongue in your presence,"

"Then don't," I said simply, "It is not as though I would tell your secrets to anyone. I have no interest in gossip or rumor,"

Legolas laughed again, and his carefree disposition stunned me. This elf was so gentle and good-natured. It surprised me at how little it took to make him smile. "That is an easy enough solution. Why didn't I think of that?"

"But come now, Calahdra," he said, lowering his voice and glancing up at me, "We both know of military etiquette. It is not as easy as that,"

I looked down, feeling as though I had been chastised.

"It is not that I do not trust you, Calahdra. No, in fact I think you to be one of the most trustworthy people I have ever met. But life is more complicated than a matter of trust,"

I nodded, glad of his clarification. And it was true. There were many things I could not tell him all though I trusted him above almost any person I had met. Of course, I could not pin-point the reason why, for by most rights he was still a stranger to me. But I did trust him, more than I thought I'd ever be able to trust any man.

"But yes," he continued, something that sounded like pain in his voice, "Mirkwood was my home,"

"You miss it," I stated  
"So much," he whispered.

"Tell me why," I said, hoping to not only tear the growing frown from his face, but also to learn more about him.

"Because it is my home. Is there any better reason? It is the place where I grew, the place where I loved and learned and laughed. Where I took my first steps and first learned to swim. It is all that I hold dear, Calahdra. And I fear that I have lost it,"

I looked at him squarely, and with courage I did not know I possessed, I put a finger beneath his chin and brought his eyes to mine.

"You have not lost it, Legolas. If you can speak of it with love so plain in your voice, than you will never lose it. It is here," I said, jabbing his chest with a forefinger, "And it shall always be there,"

Legolas was quiet, and he gazed at me with enough force to have made a young child weep. But I held fast, still clinging to my previous burst of courage.

For once, he looked away first, and I watched as his head dipped before me.

"You are right," he murmured, now braiding a few strands of grass. He looked up at me, a smile in his eyes. "You usually are,"

I smiled back, and looked down at my own hands.

"You weren't at dinner," I said.

"No, I wasn't," he said, a question in his voice. A blush spread over my neck and ears.

"You said you would be,"

Legolas' stare was burning a hole into the side of my face. I bit my lower lip, running my tongue over the chapped ridges and craters on it.

"Calahdra, I'm sorry, but I was busy. Aragorn and Mithrandir needed my help, and supper was not at he top of my list of priorities," he explained, honest yet still perplexed.

I continued to stare at the ground. This time, his fingers lifted my face to his. "You missed me,"

I was beginning to become quite interested in the fact that we rarely spoke in questions. Our inquiries about each other were almost always statements of fact.

I nodded. "I...I enjoy your company very much. I had been looking forward to it,"

Legolas gave me a soft grin, and as he clasped his hands to either side of my face, his thumbs stroked my hair. "I enjoy your company as well, Calahdra. I meant you know harm by not attending supper. I was not under the impression that you returned the amiable feelings I had for you, and therefore I accepted my friend's requests for help without question,"

"You...you did not think I enjoyed your company?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well, no," he said, confusion shading his eyes. He pulled his hands away, and went back to braiding the grass in his lap. "I knew that you did, but I assumed that considering how pretty you are and as friendly as you seemed to me, that you would surely have other friends you would have preferred to dine with,"

I was taken aback. "Legolas, in all honesty, I have no friends here at all. At least, none within the court," I looked down as he looked to me, and shedding my feelings of embarrassment, I continued. "If I had my way, I would spend dinner with any number of my friends within the city. Truly, the city-folk of Edoras are my greatest companions. But my duty is to my King, and therefore I must represent him at suppertimes,"

"That doesn't seem fair to me, considering the King pays you so little attention,"

"Exactly,"

Legolas gave me a gentle look. "Have you spoken about this to anyone? I'm sure the King would excuse you if you asked him now?"

I shook my head. "I feel that it is too late now. After two months of such a thing, a request such as that would not be smiled upon,"

"Are you really so unpopular within the court?" he asked.

"No, not unpopular. Just...unlooked for," I said, now braiding my own segment of grass. "A true Shieldmaiden has not been seen in Meduseld for over seventy years, and so my duties, and the traditions behind them, have been forgotten. And so I am seen more as a figurehead, but an unnecessary figurehead at that, and so I am neglected,"

Legolas shook his head. "It seems nonsensical to me," and I nodded in agreement.

"Truly, my purpose is to fight. And when the time comes, I will do just that,"

Legolas stopped, cocked his head, and looked at me intently. "Are you sure that that is all you are meant for? Are you sure that is how you wish to spend your life?"

I was caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. "That is my purpose. It is what I am meant for,"

Legolas shook his head. "No, it is not. Even from what little I know of you, Calahdra, I know that you are worth more than that. No matter how great a warrior you may be, or how valiant you are, I do not think that should so easily throw your future,"

I shook my head. "It is my duty. It is what I am meant for," I repeated, but the conviction in my voice was lacking.

Legolas took a deep breath, clearly troubled by my words, but he let the subject go.

At that time, Meleare strode up to the fence we were sitting next to and huffed at me. Legolas looked up at her.

"Mae govannen," he said, spirit high in his voice. Mel snorted back in greeting.

I rose and patted Mel's forelock. "Sut naa lle, Meleare?"

"Is she yours?" Legolas asked, as he rose beside me.

"Yes, she is," I said, smiling at my bay mare.

"_Who is this?" _she asked, _"He shines like you, Cal. Almost brighter,"_

I nodded, _"He is of my kin. His name is Legolas," _

_ "May I speak to him?"_ she asked, rolling a dark eye towards the tall elf.

_"I think so. But gently, Mel. He does not know of your knowledge of mind-speak,"_

I watched the two for a moment, and I saw Legolas' eyes widen in surprise. After a moment or so, Legolas looked to me.

"How long has she been able to do this?"

"Ever since I began speaking to her,"

"Speaking to her, as in, mind-speak?"

I nodded solemnly.

"Calahdra, you realize...,"

"Yes, I realize the consequences of such a gift. Trust me, Legolas. I know,"

Legolas stared at me for a moment more, and then turned back to Meleare.

"Regardless, she is beautiful," he said, and combed her mane with gentle fingers.

Quiet moments passed, moments in which had he not been so preoccupied with Meleare, I was sure he could have heard the increasing tempo of my heart. But as he looked at her, clearly participating in some sort of discussion with her, the air abut us charged with energy once more.

"Who taught you how to control your ability to mind-speak?" Legolas asked as he patted Mel's nose, his voice low.

"Myself," I responded, my own voice equally as menacing.

Legolas must have decided to let the subject drop entirely, for he silenced himself and turned back to Meleare.

I understood where his apprehension stemmed from. Mind-speak was certainly convenient, but in the hands of a sorcerer or great practitioner of such powers, it was a terrible weapon. I myself had kept it a secret, save telling my mother, who had a weaker version of the power in that she could merely sense the emotions a person was exhibiting and manipulate the tone of their thoughts. My mother had given me a brief overview of how to control such a gift, but beyond that, I had learned the ins and outs of it in books and tomes.

Legolas suddenly stepped much closer to me, stroking the other side of Meleare's face. His increasingly close proximity to me was causing my heart to do violent things within my chest.

"She's gorgeous," he murmured. I watched his eyes, glittering with specks of gold and silver reflecting from the clouds above us. The sight took my breath away.

"I know," I managed, steeping closer to the fence, reaching out to Mel's nose. My hand seemed to waver between Meleare and Legolas, and I knew deep within myself who I would rather be touching.

Just as I stretched forward, Legolas turned to me, placing my side against my chest. The sudden contact shocked me to a point of stillness, but before I could move away, Legolas drew an arm around my waist and turned me so that I was facing him. His touch sent trembles through my legs and a fiery heat into my chest.

"I wasn't speaking to Meleare, lirimaer," he whispered. He was so close to me, so incredibly close. He was everywhere, in my thoughts, in my dreams, and now his body seemed to engulf me.

"You weren't?" my voice was so soft, nearly unintelligible.

Legolas nodded, a flame visible in his eyes. Gently, he took my left hand in his, and his fingers grazed my wrist for a moment. When he took them away I looked down at my arm. Wrapped about my wrist was an intricate and beautiful braid of sweet grass.

My heart expanded ten sizes in that moment, but a hand of steel encircled my throat, and something in my head sounded out against this. I stepped away, giving Legolas a coy, but entirely fake, smile.

"Master elf, you would do better to watch your tongue. This gorgeous lady has a sword and a set of knives," I warned him, my voice halfway between seriousness and playful banter.

Legolas' eyes widened for but a second, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events, but he smiled back after a moment.

"Very well, arwenamin,"

"Will I see you at supper this night?" I asked.

Legolas shook his head apologetically. "My assistance is necessary once more," he explained. Part of me withered with news, but I accepted it with grace, steeling my heart once more.

"Then I hope to see you tomorrow," I said.

Legolas gave me a speculative look, but nodded once. "Very well Calahdra. Namaarie,"

"Namaarie," I returned, formally, and turned swiftly.

Once again, I sought refuge in my quarters.

Supper passed with a sluggish pace. And once again I spent my night on the cliffs behind Meduseld. Once again, Legolas' voice, his face, his touch was the one thing that kept me from falling from that height. His promise of tomorrow was the one thing that seemed worth waking up for.


	6. Chapter 6: Drowning

The people of Rohan had long steeled themselves against the deaths of their leaders. The death of a King or Queen was grieved for a while, but almost always their son or daughter would take over the thrown soon afterwards and the power of Rohan would be renewed.

The death of a Prince, however, was nigh impossible to bear. With no true heir to take over the thrown and an aging King still in power, the loss of a Prince or Princess was beyond heartbreaking.

And when Theodred, son of Theoden, was pronounced dead, a gloom settled over Edoras that seemed obstinate and irrepressible.

My day was spent tending to the necessary arrangements for his funeral. Food was ordered, linens cleaned. Meduseld was to be immaculate for the ceremony, and an ornate byre was needed to place the body on.

On top of all that, Theoden himself popped in and out of the main hall, and when he was not surveying the funeral preparations, he was holding secret meetings in his private quarters. The stress of an occasional glimpse of the king always interrupted the work being done within the hall, and I found it difficult to manage all of the chores that needed to be completed and those tending to them.

As far as the pecking order of maids within Meduseld went, Eowyn was by far the top. I myself came in second, and yet never once did Eowyn and I come in contact. Never once had she ever attempted to speak to me personally and always sent me instructions and inquiries through messenger boys and vague notes.

With the hustle of a funeral a day away, the occasional glance of the king I had failed, and the looming thought of Legolas in my mind, I was left exhausted by the end of the day.

Eventually Miriam, the head maid in Meduseld, dismissed me, telling me I looked dead on my feet.

About mid-afternoon I retreated to my quarters for a much deserved nap. A few hours later, and three hours before supper, I went to the target range for a bit of practice.

With my recent nap having refreshed my mind, I found my aim to be much improved. I simply visualized my arrow going where I wished it to, and I never missed a single shot in the entire hour I spent there.

I noticed Legolas' presence after a time, but did not turn to him nor did I greet him. My focus was at its peak and I refused to let it slip.

After twenty minutes or so, I began to tire, and so I let my bow rest against my foot and I turned to Legolas, who sat perched upon a fence post behind me.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," I said, as I slipped my bow into its leather case.

"Mae govannen, Aieriel," he returned, but he seemed quite distracted. He had an apple in his hand, and he seemed to be gnawing at it absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking of?" I asked him, head cocked to the side and my elbow propped against my longbow.

He looked at me for a moment, seeming to weigh his response as he usually did. "You," he responded simply, seeming incredibly unabashed by it.

"Are you?" I asked in return, attempting to disguise my shock with nonchalance.

"Yes,"

I stared at him, my eyes the ones piercing and deep this time. "And what about me are you thinking of?"

Legolas leapt down from his perch, discarding the remainder of his apple, and came to me. "The way I feel about you," his voice had gone all quiet, his eyes all gentle and absorbent. My eyebrows arched of their on accord at the sight of such beauty and honesty.

"And how do you feel about me?" my own voice beginning to sound tragically feminine.

"I don't know," he answered, and his fingers reached forward to push a stray bit of hair behind my ear. I let him touch me without protest, for his gentle fingers pushed back the qualms deep within me.

"Sometimes I think that you...that you would never return the feelings I think I have for you. Sometimes I think that I could never be what you need. That I would never be able to fix you,"

"Fix me?" I protested indignantly, my voice raising.

"Shhh," he murmured, and his hand moved to cup my cheek, "I know how proud you are, Calahdra. I know how much you wish to refuse that you sometimes feel the way you do. But I can see past the bravery, meleth, and I want so much to help you,"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced me, and I lowered my eyes.

I noticed his hand at my side, and the sudden impulse to wrap my fingers in his engulfed me. I pulled my hand away just a little when a very foreign thought came to me.

How much would holding his hand truly hurt me?

And so I took his hand in mine, and he looked at me with curiosity.

I brought our entangled hands up and rested them against his chest. The passionate look in his eyes was entrancing, much like the gaze of snake preying upon a young bird. But the warning that had alarmed me the day before sounded out again, turning my breath to flame and heart to lead.

"I'm no good at this, Legolas," I said, and I let his hand go. I stepped away and brushed my hair behind my ears, my fingers slowing as they touched the gentle pointed tips that marked me for what I was.

Legolas watched me, clearly perplexed.

"This...," I began, staring at his feet, "this doesn't feel right, Legolas. I can't....I can't do this,"

Legolas stepped towards me, as if to embrace me, but I stepped back, my hands raised as if to fend him off.

"Legolas, I can't do this," I repeated, and I looked up at his eyes. I wished I hadn't, for the hurt there was far more than I could bear. My resolve faltered just long enough for him to come to me and wrap his arms around me, press his face into my neck, and murmur my name at least twice.

I began to cry.

I had never cried in front of anyone, not even my own mother. And yet with Legolas all about me, and the feeling of safety blossoming within my chest, my tears did not shame me.

I could not truly explain the way I felt, the mixture of pain, anguish, and hope suddenly battling within me. All I had known suddenly seemed to have been turned on end, and the elf holding me now seemed to be the cause of it.

Did it matter, though, that I had only known this person for three days? No, not truly. Did it matter that any possible future with this elf was sure to result in pain or death. No, not in that moment.

All I knew, all that I seemed able to think of was that the one thing I had been wishing for, and that was a pair of arms to hold me and a shoulder on which I could rest my head, was suddenly available. Nothing else even came close to the importance of that.

Legolas pulled away for a moment, and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, my voice shaking with the sobs I was attempting to conceal.

"There is nothing that you need to apologize for," he murmured, shaking his head. A few strands of his corn-silk hair brushed against my face, and I smiled a little. "There, that is what I wish to see," he said, smiling back.

I glanced up at the darkening sky. "Legolas, I must go,"

He nodded and brushed the last tear from the corner of my eye.

"Calahdra, you'll be happy to know that I will be at supper tonight,"

I couldn't stop my face from lighting up.

Legolas beamed back, and before I could stop him, he had pressed his lips to mine. It was a quick kiss, not meant to be romantic or passionate, but I could tell that Legolas had not been able to resist any longer. I smiled a little at him, and brought a hand to my lips. I could feel a blush spreading over my entire body.

I had never felt this way before. So free, and yet with so much reason for alarm. I knew that there were multiple paths our relationship could lead, and all seemed equally likely. Our feelings for each other had been rushed, and I knew that that in itself was cause enough to doubt our relationship going anywhere. And with a war about and us both being fighters, either one of us could perish.

Did I want to risk the pain I would feel if I ever lost him? If he realized he was making a mistake, or if war stole him from me as I was sure it would, would I be strong enough to stand it?

But did those questions truly matter? I was not so sure that doubting my actions would change anything, for it was clear enough now that there would be no turning back. A polite smile and a gentle dismissal could not rid me of him now; he had sewn himself too tightly within my heart, and I wasn't sure I would be able to part from him now.

I was in this for the long haul, no matter how long or how short it might be. And I knew quite well that I was in far over my head.

Perhaps the saying "drowning in love" wasn't so far off base.


	7. Chapter 7: Admissions

I dressed in my pale silk gown once more. Impressing Legolas did not seem so important anymore. It seemed to me that I had already won him over; what more could I gain by looking well? But nonetheless, the drastic difference between this gown and my normal garb seemed quite incredible. I hoped that he would think the same.

Before I left for Meduseld, I had sat before my mirror and stared at myself intently. I wondered what it was he saw in me. I wondered why he thought I was lovely. The reflection before me did not seem lovely. In all honesty, it seemed plain. I was fit, sure, but my willowy frame was almost shapeless. I had so few curves; how could he possibly find me attractive?

The only interesting feature I possessed was my eyes, and even those were boring. They were quite expressive, certainly, but they were a drab, depressing grey that looked much like the underside of a thunderhead.

It took me a while to realize how vain I sounded, thinking such things, and scrutinizing my appearance so cruelly. Regardless of how I looked, Legolas surely had seen something more _within_ me. Something about my personality must have captured his interest, for he seemed to kind to woo a young woman simply for her favors.

At least, I hoped that was the case.

I had assumed that the warning that sometimes arouse within me when I was around him had been caused by my naturally cautious intuition.

I guffawed at my mental sarcasm. I was anything but cautious. In fact, it was my rashness that had landed me in this situation.

I knew what it was that had cried out against the look in his eyes I sometimes thought I saw, or the way he sometimes touched me. It was the part of me that would never recover from what had been done to me. The piece of me that was trapped within a memory I would rather forget.

I shook my head, desperate to enjoy this night and not become stuck within such desolate thoughts as I had the two previous nights.

I was not sure I could survive another night like the last.

At first, he seemed to be missing once more, but I caught sight of his golden hair in the shadows of the pillars, his back turned to me as he spoke with Gimli, the dwarf. I began to walk to him, feeling drawn to him even when he had not noticed me, when a hand caught my shoulder.

"My lady," a soldier grunted at me, his rough hand tight on my slim shoulder, "have we met before?"

"I think not," I responded, "Excuse me, please," I stepped away from him, intent on Legolas.

"No, miss. No, I think not," he barked, grabbing me once again. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you sure you're not lost? I might help you find a place to sleep tonight. Or is you're coiffeur filled with some other man's gold this night?" Several soldiers behind him laughed, and the man laughed as well, his eyes lewd and intense. I stared him in the eye, unafraid.

"No, sir. No, I think it best that you find some other whore. Someone pathetic enough to accept what little you can offer,"

The man and his friends went silent. I stared at him for a few seconds more, my gaze cruel, and then walked away.

By then, Legolas was striding purposefully towards me. His eyes caught mine and I stopped before him.

"Calahdra, are those nadorhuanrim insulting you?" (cowards) he hissed, his voice laced with anger. His eyes shimmered passionately in the dim light of Meduseld, and the sight nearly broke my resolve.

"They were, heruamin, but they will not bother me anymore," I said, trying to pass some calm to him through my voice. I watched him for a moment, and he seemed to be swaying between staying with me and confronting the men behind me, who were silent as they watched him warily.

I feared what might happen should he go to them, and so I settled on leading him back to supper. Gently, I rested my hand over is, which was clamped to his thigh. I turned it over, and took it into mine. "Come, heruamin. You must be hungry," I pleaded, voice low and comforting.

He gave my hand a quick squeeze and smiled at me, although his eyes had lost none of their potency. "Very well, lirimaer," And he turned back towards the long rows of benches and tables where dinner was being served, pulling me with him.

The blush painting my cheeks was almost painfully hot.

"Legolas?" I asked, feeling small. Small and young.

"Yes, Aieriel?" he said, turning back to me for a moment, before sitting down at a table. I sat beside him, spreading my skirts about me chastely.

"Why...why did you do that?"

"What? Call you lovely? Because you are, dear," he said, a smile in his eyes.

I shook my head, my blush renewed. "No, Legolas. Why did what those men say anger you so? Why were you...standing up for me?"

He gave me an odd look, as if he couldn't understand what I was saying, and then looked up as a maid served us both a platter of food. He thanked her and turned back to me.

"I was angry because you are no common street-girl, who plays in the beds of lesser men, Calahdra. You are an elf-maiden, and whether they can see it or not, you deserve to be treated as such," he explained.

I nodded, looking at my hands lying loosely in my lap. "Yes, you're right,"

A sturdy finger lifted up my chin. "Have faith, Calahdra. You are not alone. Elves look after their kin above all else,"

I smiled and tilted my head, my chin pivoting on his forefinger. "I have a more human in me, though. Does that not bother you at all?"

He shook his head. "The elf in you shines through. And you speak like one as well. Tell me, how did you learn elvish?" he asked. I saw that he had planned this statement beforehand, obviously curious about me.

I laughed a little, smiling radiantly at him. "Very well, master Legolas. I shall tell you about myself while you enjoy the hospitality of our kitchens," He nodded in earnest, and shoveled a bit of stew into his mouth.

I thought for a moment, trying to determine where to begin. I would not tell him everything, of course, although some part of me yearned to, but I would tell him more than I would most. I decided then that it is usually best to begin at the start.

"I was born in Fenmarch, which is twenty leagues southeast of here. I am the youngest daughter of three children, for I have two older brothers who are both Rohirrim. Huor and Lenwe are their names, which many in my father's fief rue, for their names are clearly not Rohirric. But my mother always prided herself in choosing such fine, elvish names for her sons. As for me, I was born three years after Lenwe and six after Huor, and she claimed to have "run out of inspiration". She named me Calahdra, thus, for in Rohirric it means "noble fire", which was a variant on my father's name. Medlinniel is elvish for honey, so at least I have a bit of true elf in my name.

"But as it was, she grew us up straight and proper until the day my father set out for war. He left when I was seven, and those are the years in which most children stray from home anyways. And so I did.

"I was ever entranced by nature, by climbing tress and swimming in springs. Riding horses and pressing flowers. Those were my true passions as a child. And it marked me as different from the other children. But I did not mind, for their games and antics interested me little.

"I grew slowly, and when I was ten, I asked my mother what it was that made me so obviously different from the other children. She told me then that I was a quarter elvish.

"I think perhaps she expected it to be a shock to me, but it truly did not. When I wasn't trekking through the forest, I was reading books along the way, and I knew enough of history and legends to know what elves were. And the similarities were all there; the affinity with nature, the slow growth. I was never sick as a child, and my injuries healed quick and rarely left scars. And so I became obsessed with elvish culture.

"I begged for my mother to teach me elvish, and she agreed. But as soon as she began speaking in the elvish tongue, I picked it up at once. It was as if the language had been living inside of me, just waiting to emerge. I began talking in it once, using words I had never heard before. In those days, I truly became engrossed in the power of the Valar, and I was convinced that they had blessed me."

I paused then, curious as to how my tale was affecting Legolas. He had slowed in his eating, and was looking at me with a powerful curiosity. I took a deep breath, for the fire in his eyes caused me to gasp for air. He gave me a quick smile, and nodded at me to go on. I licked my lips and went back to my story.

"My quest for spirituality led me down many paths. But eventually, I came to the conclusion that the Valar have blessed us all with their grace, their life, their eternal love and adoration. There is no point in worshipping someone who loves you already, and so I settled for minimalistic devotion."

At this point, he had stopped eating entirely, truly engrossed in my tale. Slowly, I pulled a chain from around my neck laid the charm that hung on it in my hand.

"This is the only gift my mother ever gave to me. She told me it was made of mithril, and shaped in the form of one of the leaves of the trees of Valinor. I could never verify it, but in my heart I value it more than anything it could be worth."

Legolas picked it out of my hand, his fingers nimble as he examined it for a few minutes. He spoke with reverence after hanging the chain back around my neck. "She was right, Calahdra. It is a princely gift, and costly at that, but it is beautiful and well crafted, and that is what is truly unique about it,"

I nodded, tucking the charm back into my bodice. I noticed the way his eyes trailed after my fingers. I smiled a little.

"I find it amusing, Legolas, that you consider me lovely. Many men here are not attracted to my form. Or lack there of," I added.

Legolas looked up at me, his eyes twinkling, but calm and gentlemanly once more. "I told you, lirimaer, you are jewel hidden among these people. Among elves, you would be a treasure. Graceful forms such as yours are revered amongst my people," He turned back to his meal. I stared for a moment, letting the blush fade from my cheeks, and then turned to eat my own supper.

Several spoonfuls of stew later, I turned to him.

"Now it's your turn," I prompted, looking hopeful. Legolas chuckled at me.

"Oh no, little one. That story would keep you up far past your bed time. Besides, haven't I told you enough about me to keep you satisfied for just a little longer?"

I pouted for a moment, and then smiled back at him, ignoring his latter question "That didn't sound necessarily like a no,"

Legolas smiled back and reached out to touch the tip of his finger to my nose. "If I told you all about me, then what reason would you have for speaking to me? I was under the impression that women were enticed by mystery,"

I stared at him, my body unmoving. I could not seem to formulate words, for through his casual touch came a shock of heat and adrenaline I could not tolerate. And though he had touched me in more sensual ways than this, the feeling was stronger than ever.

Perhaps he did care for me. Perhaps all his words earlier that afternoon had been true and all of my concerns had been petty and pointless. Perhaps he felt the same inexplicable connection to me that I had to him. Or perhaps my anxiety was valid, and he was like every other man I had met, except more cunning.

That was a thought that I could not comprehend. It was something I refused to accept.

Slowly, his smile turned to a frown, and he moved his finger from my nose to cup his palm around my cheek. Without thinking, I leaned into the touch, finding the support of his warm hand comforting. "What troubles you, Aieriel? Tell me, for I may be able to help you find some peace,"

His voice was soft, like warm liquor, and just as enticing. My lips parted with a small noise, and he smiled.

"I've only known you for but a few days," I whispered, my eyes tracing his every feature, "and yet you seem...precious to me. I cannot understand this, and yet it seems...natural. Easy," I admitted, feeling heat on my back and ears.

He said nothing, which perhaps was worse than him laughing at me. He stared at me once more, his eyes penetrating mine. The silence wore on, and after a while, I felt my face collapse with doubt.

"You do not feel the same way, do you?" I asked, my voice breaking with shame. I had seemed to have trapped myself in an immense quagmire.

His calm eyes were awakened, and he brought his hand back to his lap.

"No, Calahdra, I feel that way as well. But...my heart confuses me. Never have I fallen for someone so quickly. Never have I felt this way before. And you are so young, lirimaer. So young and tender and pure. I feel as though I must protect you. As though I must heal you. I wish to hold you. To keep you whole. And yet I cannot do this, not when all my life love has seemed unobtainable to me," he explained.

I nodded. "It feels much the same for me. I feel as though I am being pulled towards you. As though my fate is entwined in yours. But this seems so odd to me. And yet...," I paused, looking down at my hands, which were wrapped in the periwinkle tones of my dress. I looked up at him, wishing to pull the encouragement from his eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"And yet I think I have fallen in love with you,"


	8. Chapter 8: Answers

A/N: Hi! I apologise for the lack of introductions within this story. I've been forgoing the whosits and whatsits so that you, as a reader, can get to the good stuff. But I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't put one somewhere.

First of all, please note that this is my first official fanfic. It's rough and uncut, and I love it, but constructive criticism is _welcome and necessary_.

Second of all, even though this fanfic is rated M, currently graphic sex and violence is _not _on the menu. I rated it that way because not only is there a decent amount of mature material in here, but also because I wished to have a mature, well-read audience as opposed to a not so mature audience, and rating as such seemed like a decent way to perhaps filter out the said "immature" audience.

Lastly, this is a secondary posting of Ever and Ever. My primary account is loacted on lotrfanfiction. Located there is an official Preface. It is also more frequently updated. If you would like to follow Ever and Ever more closely, I would suggest you look there.

Also, I will be on a two week hiatus after this update, so please don't be alarmed. I will return with a glorious number of updates.

Thanks! -Whisper

* * *

A weight seemed to have fallen from my chest with the admission. And suddenly staring at him, telling him these things seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. The heat disappeared, and all I could feel was adoration for this man. This man whom I barely knew.

But the apprehension was still there. I knew in my heart that there was a large difference between amiable compassion and love, and I could have ruined any chance of being with him by revealing myself so suddenly.

But his eyes warmed, and a brilliant smile lit up his face. "I, too, am very much in love with you,"

I beamed back, and I reached out to stroke his fingers. Legolas flipped his hand over, and held his palm against mine for a moment before encompassing my hand with his own. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin on my palm, and the sensual patterns he etched on my hand made the tips of my elven ears burn with excitement and delight. Somewhere within my lower stomach, a bit of me was beginning to burn for this man.

As my eyes flickered about his face, he held my hands tightly, his eyes never leaving mine. Slowly, he pulled back, and smiled sensually.

"You are doing strange things to me, Aieriel. I think that perhaps I should take my leave, or else you might cause me to bring great harm to you," he said, his voice playful and light, yet his eyes impassioned and serious.

"I do not fear you, Master Elf. I do not think that you could bring harm to one as fierce as me," I parried, my tingling skin making me bold.

Legolas smiled, but is eyes were losing their depth, obviously cooling after the curious moment between us. He bent towards me, and his lips brushed my ear, causing it to burst into flames once more. "I believe otherwise,"

I blushed quickly and thoroughly, and Legolas smiled as he felt the warmth run icy-hot through my veins. My thoughts were slow it seemed, and the concept of lust was hard for me to grasp in the moment. So instead of trying to say something witty and enticing, I blundered through my racing thoughts and threw the first question I could think of at him.

"How is it that you seem so sure I am a virgin?"

Legolas laughed, his face bright and flush with merriment. "Because I can tell, lirimaer. The way that my touch excites you," and he emphasized the point by laying the back of his hand against my brow, "is a sure sign that you have not been touched this way before. Of course I could be wrong, but I am rarely wrong,"

I was silent. For reasons that I could not put to words, his words had stilled me. I felt chill suddenly, and the blush fell from my cheeks. I looked away, and pulled my hands from his, letting them lay limp on my lap.

"Calahdra? Am I wrong? Tell me, sweet," Legolas said gently, his hands going to the sides of my face.

I looked to him, my entire heart seeming to break in his hands. If I told him the truth, I would surely shatter.

But my lips parted of their own accord, and the long stilled memories broke into my thoughts. The tears immediately fell from my eyes, and the sounds my breath was making were frightening at the least. How was it that this elf could so easily pull tears from my eyes? How could it feel so very right to wish to tell him the truth?

"My brothers, Legolas, were very cruel to me. I fear that their taunting and jests may have spoiled me, for the pleasure I might have had seems lessened now," I explained, feeling the thousand scars rip open as I spoke this aloud.

Legolas at once pulled me to his chest, dragging my limp body into his lap and cloaking me from the outside with his chest and arms. I sobbed into his tunic, feeling shame pour forth from me like molten rock.

"Calahdra, look at me," he whispered, after my violent quaking seemed to gentle. I looked at him, my tears pathetically marring his perfect face. "Let us find some place where I might hold you, and where you can tell your story in private. Is there such a place?"

I nodded. "My room is the only haven I have, but I hope you will not think ill of me to invite you there,"

Legolas shook his head. "No my love, you are no harlot. You are a kind and pure elf maiden, and I love you," he murmured against my hair.

I led him to my room as I walked wearily beside him. As soon as we escaped Meduseld, Legolas lifted me into his arms and carried me, and I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in his scent.

I loved this man, and that was plain. But how I had fallen so far so quickly was a mystery. And whether this love could last over pain, over war, over all that I felt I needed to tell him, I could not foresee.

I had thought these things before. How many times must they run through my head before I realized that rationalizing my actions was futile?

But in this moment, his touch and his voice were all I needed.

He set my on feet once we were outside my room, which was located in Meduseld's guest quarters. I pulled my key out from the sash around my waist and opened the door, revealing my quaint bedroom. Inside was little more then a full bed, a dressing desk, and a chest. Beside my bed rested an assortment of weapons and items meant for tending Meleare, and a small lyre laid beside those. My bed linens were plain and tan, but a single embroidered pillow stood out from the drab duvet and pillows. It was bright blue, shaped like a heart, and it read "Calahdra Medlinniel", with a running horse depicted beneath the elegant script.

By now, I had calmed somewhat, and my spirits rose as he surveyed my room.

"Your room is well kept, Aieriel," Legolas commented, placing a hand on my shoulder as I stepped inside. I stopped and turned to the side, inviting him in. He walked over to my lyre lithely, and knelt before it, brushing his hand against its case. "Do you play well?" he asked.

"I have been told so. I've played since I was four, and leaving my harp at home nearly broke my heart," I explained as I closed my door, locking it behind me.

He stood once more, and stopped before my stash of weapons. My sword, shield, bow, quiver and arrows, and knives rested there. The sight seemed to confuse him.

"You knew I was a Shieldmaiden, Legolas. What did you expect?" I asked, coming up behind him to rest my arm around his waist.

"I'm not sure, Calahdra. But the thought of you in danger is hard for me to bear," he said quietly, placing his hand over mine on his stomach.

"It is hard for me to think of you fighting, also," I admitted.

"I assume you have killed before, love. How does it feel to you?" he asked, growing continually quieter.

I took a breath, and moved to his side, resting my head on his shoulder, staring at my sword as I told him.

"I was twelve when I first killed an orc. My father had taken my brothers and me to the encampment outside of Fenmarch, and a raiding party of orcs came perilously close to the camp. I was outside my father's tent when they attacked, and in the madness of the attack, my father was injured. An orc was about to stab him in the chest when I took up a fallen soldier's knife and slit the creature's throat. I killed seven more that night and thought little of it,

"It wasn't until my father brought the subject up some time later that I gave t much thought. I had been raised in a world where orcs were evil and people did what they had to in order to keep their families alive. But a week later, my father asked me the same question you had. He said "How does it feel, Cal, having taken something's life?" I said nothing then, but when I was alone in my room I sobbed like I have never wept before.

"But after that, killing became easier. Please believe that I am not heartless. The fact that I am robbing a creature's life and future certainly weighs on me after I have killed. But this is the world I live in and the life I have chosen. I cannot allow myself to  
grow weak with false empathy or desolate with self loathing," I looked up at him for reassurance. He was looking out my window, a stern expression on his face.

"I understand, Calahdra. I feel similarly. Killing is hard, but in darkness and peril, and when it is a necessity, you do yourself no good by breaking your heart over it,"

I nodded, and pressed my head to his shoulder once more.

"Does this feel strange to you?" I asked nervously, "Do you feel as if we have rushed into this too fast?"

"A little, love. But considering we both feel this way, yet we both agree that our feelings for each other can't be denied, I see no reason why we cannot try to make this work,"

"I agree,"

Legolas looked down at me, and smiled brightly.

"You smile a lot," I commented, smiling back.

"I have only ever smiled so much when I am with you," he responded, and my heart once more did loops in my chest. But a sense of despair slowly took hold of me as I stood beside Legolas. The ache in my heart began once more, and Legolas seemed to feel it at once.

Legolas laid me on my bed while he lit several lamps. I attempted to calm my ragged breathing while he did so, but the mere thought that a man was truly in room was doing impressive things to my heart.

He returned to the bed, and in his hand was my comb. "May I?" he asked. I nodded, and sat. He crawled towards me, and my stomach nearly fell out of my chest as he did so, and he then sat behind me. At first, I leaned forward, but Legolas' hands slowly encircled my waist and he pulled me back, so that I was leaning against his firm chest. He pulled my hair back over my shoulders, and began to sweep through the waves and curls with gentle strokes.

"Tell me, Calahdra. How is it that you have such beautiful hair? How do you care for it so that it is so radiant and tame?"

I grinned. He was so good at distracting me. "You might think it odd, if I tell you. But if you wish to know, then so be it," I explained. "We women of Rohan use horse sweat to keep our hair healthy. It is a tedious process, collecting the sweat, and some that are not accustomed to our heritage find it revolting. But horse sweat contains properties that shut out the dirt and grease from its coat and skin, and the same affect on a person's hair keeps it soft and protected,"

Legolas nodded. "I do not find that revolting. I think it logical. Elves use herbs and such to wash our hair, and our affinity with plants is much like the people of Rohan's affinity with horses,"

I nodded. "I combine the horse sweat, or cathril, as we call it, with sage and lemongrass, as well as milk sometimes. I enjoy keeping my hair beautiful. It is the one part of me that distinguishes me as different from those of Rohan. It marks me as an elf maiden, and of that I am proud,"

"I am glad, also," he murmured, a smile in his voice. But his statement was left trailing off, and I felt as though he meant something else. He stopped combing, and I turned to him just as his hands bent to my waist. "Calahdra, you should know how I truly feel. You should know how deep my love for you seems to flow. But you should know other things about me, other sides of me, first. If you do not mind, I think that this night would be well spent if we talked. If we caught up on the conversation we have seemed to have skipped,"

I nodded. I knew how he felt.

Legolas moved a little, and pulled me along side him as he stuffed pillows up against the wall. We rested against them while angled towards each other, and Legolas kept a firm grip on my hands as we faced each other.

"Now, I know that you told me much about yourself, love, but I feel that you left out some parts that you may wish to tell me of. First, let me tell you about myself, and I will spare you no details unless you wish otherwise," he left this statement open for comment, and I thought for a moment before responding.

"You are right in that I have more to tell you, but I fear these things, for you may change your thoughts of me should you hear them. But as for your life story, do not feel that you must tell me everything. I trust you, Legolas, although I find it strange in some part of my heart, and I would not have you feel embarrassed if you told me something you did not wish too,"

Legolas smiled once more. It seemed that his grin would forever warm my heart.

"I am a lucky elf indeed, to have been granted you, my love. You are truly a treasure, Calahdra," He reached out and traced my lips with a finger, and I smiled, using my free hand to run my fingers over his silky locks. My finger tip grazed one of his braids, and he held my fingers fast. A sudden look of panic must have passed my face, for he gave me an empathetic look at once.

"I am sorry, Aieriel, but I forget that you are young to this world and not entirely versed in the tradition of elves. It is a taboo of sorts for an elf maiden to touch the braids or ears of a male until she has lain with him. It is an old fashioned rite, I know, but it is hard not to abide by,"

I pulled my hand away at once, feeling embarrassed at my ignorance. "I am sorry, Legolas. I did not wish to dishonor you. I was merely...curious,"

He placed a hand beneath my chin. "You meant no harm by it, I know. And it would not have bothered me if it wasn't for the fact that you are so pure, but...,"

I cut him off, "Why do you keep saying that? What makes you think I am so chaste? And why should it change how you think of me?"

Legolas looked at me for a long while, as if appraising what he might say.

"It is hard to explain, lirimear, but I shall try my best. You see, every person to me has an aura. I have always been sensitive to a person's personality, as many elves are. When I see a person, I immediately associate them with a color, and that color usually represents this person's temperament and history. Bold colors signify bold people, whereas soft colors represent gentle people. Earth tones represent elves, usually, and dark colors represent those associated with evil. Humans and dwarves and all others take up the remaining colors. Pure, chaste women shine in my mind, whereas harlots are dull and worn. But never before have I seen a person shine like you did. When I saw you, I saw the purest silver in all the world. So soft, so untainted. I knew at once that you were young, sweet, and one of the kindest, most pure women in the entire world. I was attracted to you even before you first spoke. And when you did speak, my heart was won,"

I smiled softly, but the hurts were still raw and I looked down. His fingers caught my chin. He looked me very seriously in the eye, and yet through his sternness came a powerful wave of compassion. "Tell me, Calahdra. Tell me and I might better look after you," he coaxed.

I shivered, and tried to look away. The words would not seem to come to my lips. Yet he held me fast, and my tortured eyes met his again.

"Calahdra, I swear not to hurt you. Ever. I promise to you on all that I hold dear that I will never touch you, kiss you, or make love to you without your permission. I will wait until you are ready, even if that is until the undoing of the earth, for all I wish is to be with you," he paused for a moment, and pulled his hand away. I reached for it and he gave to me, though, after several silent seconds of thought.

"I swear this, love. And I swear to you that I will help you mend this hurt. But I cannot do so unless you tell me what it is that has wounded you,"

I nodded gently, my head pounding with pressure and confusion. It seemed that I no longer had a choice.


	9. Chapter 9: Bittersweet

"I will tell you, meleth nin, but I fear you will not like the tale I have to tell," I looked up through my eyelashes, expecting something other than the calm courtesy I saw. He squeezed my hand and I looked at our entwined fingers, and the sight stilled my qualms just enough to let the words break through the walls I had built around the memories.

"When I was nine, I was swimming in a brook nearby my house. I was swimming naked, as always, for I often swam alone, and I did not fear my brothers seeing me, for I was young and innocent and naïve. They came that day, but instead of telling me that my mother needed me or that my chores needed tending too as they often did, Huor stripped off his clothes as well and came to me in the water. I asked him what he was doing, but he said nothing.

I swam to the far side of the creek, and reached for my clothes, for I could feel in my heart that something was not right. Lenwe took my clothes from me, and Huor grabbed my waist from behind,"

I stopped, for my breath was suddenly short and Legolas had gone still. I gave his hand a desperate squeeze and his eyes focused on mine. Slowly, my tears boiled over, and he wordlessly pulled me closer to him, so that I was sitting on his lap, cradled against his chest once more.

"Huor told me to lie down in the water, and when I did nothing his hands grew tight about me. Lenwe was looking me over, his eyes resting on me in places that I would have rather hidden, but it was Huor who was scaring me most.

"When he asked again and I refused, he shoved me to the bank of the creek and had Lenwe hold my shoulders to the ground. I struggled, but I was afraid, for Lenwe's knife was at his side. The rocks cut into my back, and I choked on the mud and water, but they would not let me go. Huor bent before me, and.....,"

I stopped, feeling my body shake and stiffen in odd, disjointed rhythms. Legolas began to rock me, and his voice was soft in my ear. "You need not say anymore, if you wish. This is hurting you,"

I nodded, and let my head fall onto his chest.

He stroked my back lovingly, and I felt him swallow, for my head was pressed into his throat and collarbone. I took a deep breath, and the air seemed to burn my throat. I forced myself to speak over the nightmare in my head.

"Aieriel, your tale breaks my heart. To think of the mental suffering you endured...and also the physical pain,"

I nodded grimly, feeling embarrassed, yet relieved, just as I had expected.

"Do not be ashamed," Legolas murmured, pulling my face up to his. Slowly, he smled, a slow gentle grin filled with empathy and adoration.

I smiled back, although my mind seemed to rebel against the action, but my grin was cut short by a yawn.

"Ah," Legolas sighed, "I forget that you need rest, love. I should let you sleep. Tomorrow shall be a long day, I think,"

We were silent for a moment. It was easy to forget that Thoeodred's funeral would take place tomorrow. That the king's son was dead troubled me as it did everyone, but I had not known him well, nor did grieving seem important to me. Rohan's defenses were failing, and a day spent grieving was a day spent sending invitations to the enemy.

Perhaps my pragmatics made me seem cold, but logic saved more lives then sentiment, it seemed to me.

I desperately turned my thoughts back to Legolas.

"Forget?" I asked, "Don't you need rest as well?"

Legolas broke from his reverie, "Not the same kind. Elves do not lose consciousness, love. We instead rest our minds and bodies in a sort of conscious slumber,"

"Can you dream?" I asked. Life without dreams seemed bleak to me, for my dreams were often vivid and entertaining when they were not nightmares.

"Of a sort. We let our minds wander, and imagine things that we have seen before. But often times I let my mind go blank," he explained, and slowly he unfurled his long legs, and shifted out from under me.

I looked at him, unsure of where he was planning on going. I briefly considered the possible complications of him staying with me for the night, but they seemed small to me. I was sure that his presence might calm my mind and give me peace, as he seemed to do while I was awake.

Legolas stood, and smoothed his tunic. The sight of him standing tall and straight gave me butterflies. "Will you not stay?" I asked, hardly able to hide the hope from my voice.

"I am not sure, love. If I do not return to Gimli and Aragorn, what will they think of me?" he asked playfully.

"I am not so sure that it is your honor that you are concerned about, Legolas," I responded, unfurling my legs as well, and straightening my dress. Legolas stared at me, his eyes suddenly catching flame.

"How is it that even your slightest movement can effect me so?" he muttered, sounding distant. I smiled sensually, and stood next to him, placing my hands on his waist.

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I must be making things very difficult for you," I murmured, staring at his jaw.

His hands encircled my waist, and he pressed me a little closer to him. I could feel his muscles rub against my thin gown, and my skin burned in those spots. He brought his lips to my ear, as before.

"I will stay, meleth nin, as long as you promise to behave yourself,"

I smiled, "Hmm, I'll try. But I'm not promising total chastity. I might not be able to help myself should I dream of you,"

"Then know that I will be dreaming of you as well, lirimaer," He leaned in once more, and placed his lips against my neck, slowly caressing my collar with his mouth. I gasped quietly, and tilted my head until my ear rested against his hair.

He moved his mouth in slow circles, moving to my shoulder, where he pulled away the satiny sleeve. He kissed my shoulder softly, and my breathing became shallow.

Never had I felt such pleasure. Such heat seemed impossible. And yet for all the passion, the foremost feeling was comfort. That Legolas was standing over me, encircling me with his strong body, made me feel safe. I felt peaceful, rested, and yet energized.

"Legolas," I whispered, my eyes closing and my hands tightening around his middle. He stopped and straightened, and I opened my eyes. He was looking at me with a strange expression, as if he was apologizing to me.

"It's alright," I coaxed, afraid that he felt he had gone too far.

Legolas smiled, and rubbed a circle into the small of my back. Feeling brave, I reached up to his face, and cradled his prefect cheeks in my hands, my fingers just barely touching his pointed ears. I stood on my toes and stared into his eyes, letting my gaze melt into his. Slowly, I brought my lips to his, and I tilted my head just enough to let his lips fit between mine. I caressed them slowly, enjoying the taste and the feel of him beneath me. When he did not respond, I moved my lips faster, increasing the pressure. He was awakened at once, and his hands moved to my face, pulling me to him so close that our noses brushed against each other.

I wallowed in the pleasure, in the purity of our kiss. I very nearly drowned in happiness, and would have fallen to my knees if Legolas had not been holding me up.  
It was as if I was being healed, as if all the hurts I had felt were being peeled away.

I loved this man with all my being and my heart would forever be his.

Legolas pulled away first. His eyes were bright and bold, filled with a mix of longing and satisfaction that warmed my heart, as well as other places within me. "Did we not agree that you should sleep?"

"Only if you will stay with me," I said.

"Very well," Legolas said with a chuckle, "I will stay, little one,"

I beamed at him, and kissed the tip of his nose before turning to my dressing desk. I filled the wash basin on it with water from a pitcher. I washed my face, and watched Legolas' reflection near me.

"You have wonderful skin, my dear," he noted.

I laughed a little. "I try,"

I continued to scrub at my face. I then combed my hair once more, followed by a careful scrubbing of my teeth with a soft rag and some peppermint. When I felt sufficiently clean, I turned around and stood before Legolas.

"I have to change out of this dress, love. How offended would you be if you saw a hint of skin?"

"Not offended at all," he replied.

I went to my chest, which lay at the foot of my bed, and pulled out a night-shirt.

"Most respectable women wear nightgowns to bed, but I find all of those ruffles quite uncomfortable. I hope you aren't insulted by my plain sense of style," I said casually, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. I could feel how hard he was trying to hide his excitement even a few feet from him. And I suddenly realized something that teased my curiosity. The night shirt fell from my hands.

"Legolas, how long have you been travelling?"

He came to me, and took my hands. "You are beginning to realize how little you know about me, aren't you?" his voice was wary, soft.

I nodded. "I wish there was more time in the day," I admitted.

"I do to, and I promise to tell you everything in time, but to answer your question, it has been a year since I left home,"

"And your home is Mirkwood?"

"The forest of Mirkwood, and the cities deep within it," he nodded. He was silent for a moment, but I could tell he wished to say more.

"I am prince of Mirkwood, love. My father is Thranduil, King of Silvan Elves," he admitted. My brow rose in shock.

"Thranduil? I have read so much about him. And you are a prince? Then what are you doing with me? Your people would never approve of such a ruffian!" I was nearly shouting, I was so surprised.

Legolas put his hands on my shoulders at once, trying to still me. "No, Calahdra. Please do not think that. I am still Legolas, and I still love you. You are the most precious thing to me. And if our futures bring us both to Mirkwood, then I assure you that my people would treasure you as much as I do. Please know that. It is the truth, meleth nin, I swear it,"

I stared into his eyes, and I could tell that he spoke the truth. But the shock was nearly terrifying.

"I just...I cannot believe it...," I whispered. I almost felt betrayed. I was not deserving of him, no matter what he said. That he had mentioned nothing of this made my head hurt with anxiety.

"Love?" he asked gently, fear clear in his eyes. "Are you angry with me?"

I took a deep breath. Even in anger, my love for him was sure. But I felt that lying about how I felt would be a poor show of my adoration of him. "A little," I admitted, "but not enough to change anything,"

He looked at me with sadness. "I am sorry, Calahdra. I should have told you sooner. That would have been fair to you. But it is a very hard topic to bring up,"

I nodded. "I do not doubt your intentions, Legolas, nor would it have changed anything. But I still feel quite insignificant,"

He clearly wanted to know what I meant, and this thought tied in with my first.

"What I mean is that of all the women you could have, you chose me. And I wonder why that is,"

"Because I am in love with you," he said, as if this explained everything. "Because you are the one person that makes me feel as though I am whole, as if my future is guaranteed. You keep my mind from war and pain, and when I see your smile, I am filled with the purest joy. You are smart, you are clever. You are strong, courageous, and you are beautiful in both your heart and soul,"

My eyes tingled with tears.

"But love...," he mused, "I wonder, too, what it is that you see in me,"

I looked at him, my head cocked to the side. I was not under the impression that his self esteem was as fragile as mine. "You are perfect, Legolas. Like someone out of a dream. You are kind, strong, and handsome. Everything you do makes me feel healed, whole, and you look at me as if I am the most important thing in the world. You make me feel loved, and that is all I need,"

He smiled slowly, and embraced me. I pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling him. He smelled like grass and dew, but also like sweat and blood. It was a perfect combination of both deadly strength and pure elvenhood.

I pulled away when he did, and I retrieved my tunic from off the bed. Carefully, I began unlacing my gown.

"Would you like me to close my eyes?" Legolas asked, both seriously and good-naturedly.

"No, love, not if you don't want to. But I wouldn't mind some help with these ties," I answered.

His fingers unlaced my bodice quickly, and I looked at his face as he did so. My skirts fell down around my ankles, and I was left in my corset and leggings. He was clearly concentrating on not revealing his lust. I stroked his cheek with my fingers and he stopped, looking at me.

"I love you," I whispered.

"As I love you," he returned. He glanced down at my underclothing and my skin began to heat. He must have noticed, for he swiftly picked the nightshirt from where I had dropped it.

He pulled the worn shirt down over me and turned me to my bed. I crawled beneath the covers, and rubbed my feet together to warm them against the cool sheets.

"Would you like to join me?" I asked, watching as he stood at the side of my bed, looking conflicted. I pulled the blankets aside in invitation.

"I would, love. But still, I worry what Aragorn and Gimli might think," he admitted.

"Do not worry about. They surely recognize you to be an honorable enough person to not go running off to bed with the first woman you meet,"

Legolas looked at me for a moment, and then settled to my bed, unlacing his boots as he sat on the edge. "You are right, sweet," I took advantage of his momentary distraction by unlacing my corset and pulling it out from beneath my tunic.

I yawned once more, but was awakened and wide eyed when he pulled his tunic over his head. I stared at his smooth, muscular back, and the sight was exhilarating.

He then proceeded to unbraid his hair, and the sight was so erotic, my entire body began to heat beneath my sheets.

He turned to me, still untangling the intricate braids. The plaits left behind were wild and beautiful. "Are you alright? You have become quite silent, love," He then caught sight of the fact that my breasts were sitting unchecked on my chest, and he forced his eyes away from me.

I nodded, swallowing before I could speak. "This is all very new to me, Legolas. I'm afraid that I'm struggling to comprehend the fact that a half naked man is sitting on my bed, and also with the fact that his man is no man at all, but in fact an elf prince who swears that I am the love of his life," I nearly forgot to breathe in my admission, but it seemed quite important to explain myself fully to him.

He laughed, and the sound was delightful. "Yes, this seems like quite a fantasy, doesn't it? For I cannot believe that I have been seduced by a Shieldmaiden of Rohan who is in fact an elf herself and swears that she loves me as well," He shifted so that he could swing his legs beneath the covers, and brought his arms around my waist. We lay down besides each other, and he stared deep into my eyes.

"It is the best dream I have ever had, meleth nin, and I hope that it never ends," he murmured, stroking my hair.

"The same is true for me, Legolas," I answered. But our smiles were bittersweet, for both of us knew that there was something we were refusing to speak about.

War would divide us, and that was certain. But in that moment, joy was all that mattered. And I fell asleep in his arms that night, my mind still filled with a thousand questions, and my soul questioning my sanity. But my heart had never felt so right, and I knew in my core that I was finally happy.


	10. Chapter 10: Oaths

I awoke as the sun rested on my face through my window. Legolas lay still beside me, his back to me. I appraised the cords of muscle embroidered throughout his back. He was spectacularly fit, and I raised my finger to trace his sculpted shoulder blades. He made a small choking noise and turned around at once.

"That tickles, Cal," he chastised, his voice appetizingly gruff with sleep. But I was too surprised by his casual use of my nickname to give much thought to his sarcastic tone and unveiled body.

"Cal?" I questioned quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It was a mental lapse, I think," he apologized.

"No, no, it was cute!" I assured him, "Actually, many people call me that. Calahdra is a bit of a mouthful. I was just surprised that you used it. It sounds different somehow, coming out of your mouth," I explained while he studied my face.

"Calahdra isn't a mouthful. It's beautiful," he muttered, and his fingers began to trace my ears, my nose, and my jaw.

"And you said that I was tickling you," I told him, scarcely able to breathe.

"Would you like me stop?" his question held an edge of challenge that brushed at my ego. I shook my head to prevent my voice from betraying me.

"That's what I thought," he whispered, and bent to kiss me. His kisses, I noticed, were very soft and chaste, and some part of me resented that. But I understood the necessity and appreciated his thoughts behind it. I was damaged, as it was, and anything more than what he provided me would surely push me over the edge.

When he pulled away, I smiled at him. "How was your night?" I asked, genuinely curious. If he did not truly sleep, than spending the night with me was surely boring. When I was not dreaming, I was usual as still and quiet as a log.

"Peaceful. Refreshing. You were so beautiful asleep, meleth nin. Truly gorgeous,"

"But weren't you bored?"

"Bored? I had to much to think about to be bored, sweetheart,"

I looked away, the bittersweet feeling coming to me once more. He was right, in that there was much to think about.

"Come," he said, escaping from my bed, "Today will be a long day,"

I sighed and stood, looking about my room as I stretched. Legolas had caught sight of the pile of horse tack in the corner of my room

"Are these for Meleare?" he asked.

"Ah-hmm," I said with a yawn, stretching my arms out and above me.

"Why did you name her that?" he asked, turning to me. At the sight of me, all stretched out against my clothes, my hair in tangles about my head, and my eyes bright with wakefulness, his eyes widened. I gave him a sensuous smile, assuming he found me appealing in some way or another. He looked away, a small grin on his lips.

"Oh, I have a sick sense of humor I guess," I explained, bending next to my chest and fingering through my clothing to find my funeral dress. Legolas continued looking at me with question.

"It means harlot," I explained.

"Oh," I was confused at his lack of comment, but let the subject drop. I pulled out my single black dress and held it up before me, eyeing it with distaste. "I've never liked black. It is too plain, and yet it represents so much more than one would wish it to,"

"That is true," Legolas agreed, now surveying my bow and arrows. "These are well made," he murmured, "Who made them?"

"My bow was my mother's, but I restrung it to suit my strength and re-stained the wood. The arrows I make myself,"

"Pheasant?"

"Rock pigeon," I said, "Their tails grow long in the winter and they lose them when they nest in the spring. I collect great sacks of them then, and fletch my arrows myself as needed,"

"Where did you learn that skill?" he asked, now surveying my armor.

I was moved by his burning curiosity of my skills. I had already known that he was an avid archer, which I would have expected of an elf had I not witnessed his skill before. But his undaunted passion for it was thrilling.

"My father taught me when I was young. He was always enthusiastic about me learning to protect myself," but I let the topic go, not interested in Legolas' curiosity shifting to my father, who I obviously referred to in the past tense.

"And your mare. Was she a gift from him as well?"

I nodded.

"He must have loved you very much,"

I froze. His use of the past tense bewildered me into a state of silence.

Legolas had come to me, an he rested his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him.

"Do you miss him?" he whispered.

"Every day," I answered. He clearly thought my father was dead, but it did not bother me. It would have been better if my Ada was dead, truly. But that thought spurred my guilt into a bitter cyclone within me and I turned away.

Legolas looked away as I dressed. My mourning gown was sheer and plain. The skirt was long and pleated, made of a layer of translucent silk and an under-layer of cotton. The bodice was fitted and high-necked and a single silver braid functioned as a belt. The sleeves were tight fitting and long.

I pinned half of my hair back and fit it all beneath a dark veil. A few wavy strands laid loose about my face. I let my necklace lay over my dress for once, and complimented it by pinning a silver pin set with a sapphire in my hair. I turned around to Legolas, who was now in his clothes once more, and asked his opinion.

"Gorgeous as ever, but entirely suitable for the occasion," was his gentle answer. Before we left, I hung my best knife on my belt. The hilt was marbled with silver, so it matched well, but I knew that it was more than a ceremonial decoration. In recent days, protection was a foremost thought on everyone's mind.

I locked up my room and turned to Legolas. "Your room?" I asked. He nodded, and offered me his hand. I took it at once, and stroked his fingers with mine.

"Are you alright, love?" I asked, looking up at him. His brow was furrowed a little, and the sight immediately alarmed me.

"I am not a fan of funerals. Such morbid grief wears on me," he explained, giving my hand a squeeze. I squeezed back.

"I'll be here, sweet," I murmured, smiling at him in encouragement. I brought his knuckles to my lips for a moment, and he smiled sweetly back at me.

"That is sure to make it bearable,"

We reached the quarters he was sharing with Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf a short time later. We ran in to few people, for the guest house was rarely busy these days. Those we did see did not look at us, and for that I was grateful. I was sure that Legolas and I would be an odd sight to anyone's eyes.

Legolas knocked upon the door of his room and Aragorn opened it, looking rough with sleep. He looked at me with some surprise for a moment, which I had expected, and then greeted Legolas.

"Quel amrun," Legolas returned, and Aragorn ushered him in. I stayed in place, unsure of whether I was welcome.

"It's safe inside, my lady. Please, come in," Aragorn said to me. I smiled, and followed Legolas.

"Thank you, my Lord," I said quietly. Behind me, a grumbling laugh erupted.

"Now I know where you've been, Master Elf. Off wooing pretty young women, have you?" Gimli accused, his eyes sparkling ever still.

Legolas shot him a pained look, which only sent Gimli into another fit of laughter. Standing tall, Legolas put his hands on my shoulders and stood behind me. I looked on Gandalf, who was sitting on a cot on the far wall. He was looking at me strangely, and the sight of him made my skin itch like it had before.

"I have someone to introduce," Legolas announced, "This is Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch, a Shieldmaiden of Rohan," Gimli harrumphed.

"A warrior woman? My, Legolas, I can not tell whether your aim has improved or gotten worse in this place,"

Legolas gave my shoulders an apologetic squeeze, but I giggled instead. Gimli's teasing gave me enough confidence to challenge him.

"Master dwarf, you seem jealous. Perhaps if your head had been farther from the ground, I would have set my sights on you instead of Legolas, but alas, it is not so,"

The room went silent for a moment, and the quiet pressed viciously on me. Just as I began to second guess my attempt at humor, Gimli's stony glare shifted to joy and he laughed with such vigor that the room shook.

The others laughed to, and my momentary unease lapsed, and I joined in.

"I approve Legolas, I approve," Gimli managed to say, before his laughter consumed him once more. Gandalf stood and walked to me.

"You seem to be a fine young lady, Calahdra. It is nice to meet you," he said, offering his hand. I took it and he lifted it to his mouth, which was framed with a great white beard.

"And you as well, Gandalf. Much have I heard of you, Master Wizard," I returned.

Aragorn came to me as well, and he took my hand after Gandalf. "Well met, Calahdra of Fenmarch. I fought beside your father for a time, many years ago. He was then a courageous and charismatic general, and he spoke of his wife being pregnant with you. His eyes lit up each time he mentioned it. I see now the reason for it,"

I smiled in answer, refusing to let the truth spoil the joyous mood in the air. "Thank you, lord Aragorn,"

Gimli lumbered up to me next, and I smiled down at him. "Forgive me, master Gimli. I hope my words did not bruise your feelings,"

"No, there are no bruises here," he said, tapping his chest beneath his thick beard. He took my hand next and pressed it to his mouth. "Fine greetings, young one,"

Legolas stepped to stand beside me, moving his hand to my waist. "Let me dress," he whispered, and I nodded at him, turning aside.

Aragorn sat in the lone chair by the door, a hand beneath his chin. He looked stately now, even with his scraggily hair and beard. I knew then who he was, for I had read much about the Dunedain and their roots with the lost line of Kings.

That the Heir of Elendil sat before me fazed me little, however, for much had happened in the few days that I would have thought better suited for a dream.

"A Shieldmaiden?" he asked, looking at me quizzically, "Like Eowyn?"

"Of a sort," I responded, "Eowyn is not supposed to fight. She is merely a Shieldmaiden due to her position in the court. But knowing Eowyn, she will reject that tradition before the end," I explained.

"Then you are a true Shieldmaiden? What does that mean?"

I looked at my knife while I answered, "I am to protect the King with my life. Should he come to danger, I fight for him at all costs. Whereas the Eorlingas sworn to Theoden fight for him on the battlefield in his stead, I am to stay by his side at all times during times of war. I do what he wishes, and stand in for scouts and generals should they fall. But for all the oaths I have worn to Theoden, I fear that I have failed them all,"

Aragorn's brow puckered. "Why is that?"

"That snake, Wormtongue, kept me from my duties. He said my services were not needed when I arrived, and to this day he has ever kept me from the King's side,"

"Grima's treachery has run deeper than we thought. To keep a king from his most trusted guards is indeed cruel," Gandalf added.

Aragorn stood and looked to both of us. "I do not think that that was Wormtongue's only reason for keeping you from Theoden, Calahdra. He must have realized that an elf maiden could see through his guises and perhaps even challenge him,"

I looked at him in shock. "How did you know?" My voice was weak. He had been the first to ever guess my heritage correctly.

"I was raised by elves, Calahdra, and I know their looks and ways. I knew your lineage when first I saw you. But I do wonder how it is that your existence has not been detected by other elves,"

I blinked in astonishment. Legolas had come up behind me once more, and rested a hand on my waist. "My mother forsook her heritage whence she met my father. She herself had been raised in the forests of Lorien, and she had seen the strife her own parents had gone through, what with her mother being human and long dead, and her father an elf. She did not wish such discrimination on herself and left Lorien to live with my father. She has not had contact with her own people since,"

"That is an odd tale, Calahdra. Elves value their heritage above all else. I wonder how your mother could so easily forsake who she was,"

"I do not know, but I can say that my mother is no longer herself. She has not taken to the ways of Rohan with much grace, and she finds my father's people to be barbaric and uncultured. I am sure she would return to her people, if it was not for her duty and pride," I explained. My mother was an honorable woman, as cold and twisted as she was, and I spoke the truth.

"Have you had any wish to spend time with elves?" Gandalf asked.

"Sometimes, especially when I was little, but this war has destroyed many people's fondest dreams and such dark times do not allow for building futures outside of the doom upon us. I have looked instead to my duty and my people, and I will rest only when they can,"

Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulder. "Look to hope as well, Calahdra. There is always hope,"

I gave a weak smile and turned to Legolas, hiding my face halfway into his chest. He held me fast, and looked to Aragorn. They shared a moment of wordless communication and then nodded at each other.

"Let us go," Gandalf said, "Today will be a long day and many will need our counsel,"

Gandalf was right. After the service, which took all of the morning and edged on into the afternoon, Theodred's body was lifted on a cairn and brought down the steps of Meduseld and through the city streets. The procession from Edoras to the funeral mounds was long and cheerless. Women wept with anguish. Men hid their faces behind their hands. The sky was dark, yet it did not rain, and every animal in the city, whether it was a horse, a dog, or a crow, was inexplicably quiet.

I stood beside Legolas, who followed behind Aragorn, who followed close to Theoden, during the proceedings. Legolas wore a black tunic and grey leggings, and the affect made his eyes appear stormy and lifeless. He kept a hand on my back throughout the procession, clearly concerned for me.

I did not cry as the hearse drew on through the city, nor when women began to toss symbolmyne on Theodred's corpse. I walked on, my heart heavy and body sore, until his pallet-bearers stopped before his tomb. Eowyn began the traditional lament, calling out in Rohirric Theodred's heritage and deeds, and boding him safe passage to the halls of his forbearers. Her voice held no beauty or life in it, only the wavering keens of a woman who has been broken and has nothing left to give to those she loves. It was then when my façade of bravery and pride failed me, and the tears rolled incessantly down my face.

When the tomb was shut, and Eowyn's song ended, a cacophony of moans broke out among those standing before his tomb, and I turned to Legolas, who embraced me as I sobbed noiselessly into his chest.

The long minutes of grieving passed, and slowly those clad in black and tears turned from the tombs and went back to Edoras, like tiny shards of broken glass splintering away from the remaining mass. My tears ceased eventually, and I waited for Eowyn to leave before I did. She stood beside Theoden for a time, leaning into the renewed man's embrace. He stared lifelessly at his son's tomb, his eyes broken. My compassion for my King was born anew.

I heard of the glory of Theoden before his dissention, hearing of his conquests and feats as a young man. When he had assumed command of Rohan after his father's death, much was expected of him. But it was then that the war began to consume all chance of hope and glory, and despair pecked at the core of Rohan, eating away at it like a fever.

By the time I had come to Meduseld, Saruman's hold on Theoden through Wormtongue was like the strongest of shackles mixed with the purest poison. Theoden's soul and courage had been lost to the madness of the White Wizard. And so I had grieved for the loss of our King instead of loathing him like many did.

Seeing him now, young again and in control of his own mind, my heart was renewed. The oaths I had taken had never been broken, and that I knew as I gazed upon my King. His grief made him so vulnerable, and I wished to stand at his side like Eowyn did. I wished to watch for his safety so that he might grieve in peace, without fear of the many enemies about him. But my shame and meekness held me fast, and I waited until Eowyn parted from him.

When she did, Aragorn guided her trembling form away to the city, and I took a deep breath before stepping before Theoden. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes troubled as he obviously strove to remember me.

"I know you," he said, straining with himself, "You are Calahdra of Fenmarch,"

I nodded, "Yes my lord, sent by my mother to serve your court,"

"Yes, yes. You swore the oaths of a Shieldmaiden before Grima could send you off. I remember, young Calahdra,"

I looked to him with purpose, and I took a breath once more, "That is indeed true my lord, but I fear I have abandoned those oaths and forsaken my purpose. For if I had better protected you, my lord, much suffering might have been avoided," I was shaking now, and I feared my voice might betray the courage I wished to show him. I badly needed Legolas' reassurance now, but he stood a way off beside Gandalf, watching the King and me's exchange.

Theoden's gloved hand came beneath my chin, and he brought my gaze to his. "If I am to punish you for being driven from your post, than I should be tortured for a thousand years in the deepest pits of the enemy's abode, Calahdra, for I too, abandoned my people and my duty. You have done nothing wrong,"

I nodded, and he let my jaw go.

"Kneel, Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch," he commanded.

I kneeled and drew my knife, offering it to him. He took it at the hilt and held before me.

"Calahdra, do you swear to protect your King and do his bidding no matter what perils you may face,"

"I do, my lord,"

"Would you stand by your King's side and before your people even as the world burned about you and all hope is lost?"

"I would, my lord," I answered, my voice was gaining some power.

"Will you place your King and your country above all else, and represent your court and council with all the honor and dignity of the greatest of nobles?"

"I will, my lord,"

"Then I hold you now to be, and forever more until death steal you from my service or I should release you, to be a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, Calahdra Medlinniel of Fenmarch," he announced, his voice raising just enough to assure that others around us would hear.

"And I hold these oaths to their value, Theoden King, and swear by them with my life," Theoden gave back my knife, and I sheathed it as I stood. Standing before him, he placed a hand against my heart.

"Westu Calahdra, hail," He said, his voice compassionate, almost fatherly.

"Westu Theoden, hail," I returned, bowing my head. He bowed back, to my surprise, and then looked over my shoulder to Legolas.

"Someone is waiting for you, Calahdra," he commented, his eyes brighter as he realized why Legolas was waiting for me. I blushed and dipped my head. "Do not feel shame, Calahdra. You are young, and love is easy when you are young, even in times of darkness,"

"That is true, my lord, but I must be ever mindful of the oaths I have twice taken,"

Theoden chuckled, "I do not think you would so easily abandon your duties, young one. For all your gentleness and humility, I see a strong warrior in you, Calahdra. You will not fail me, and that is clear,"

I nodded my head in affirmation. "I swear it, my lord,"

"Good. You may take your leave, Calahdra. I do not think that I will need your protection now, but meet me in Meduseld an hour hence,"

I nodded once more, and turned towards Legolas. I walked with purpose, feeling courageous after Theoden's warm words.

Legolas wrapped and arm around my shoulders and I pressed my head to his shoulder as we turned back to the city. Gandalf stayed behind, and went then to Theoden.

"That was well done, Aieriel," Legolas whispered.

"Thank you," I whispered back.

We walked in companionable silence back to Meduseld, which was as still as before. The grey skies now rippled with the setting sun, and a breeze tore over the plain and into the banners of Rohan. I stopped on the steps before the hall and looked up at the white horse, running swiftly and terribly on a green backdrop. "Ever has the banner of my people been carried on the breezes of these plains. If it falls, so will all I hold dear," I whispered.

Legolas squeezed me tightly. "If there is one thing I have learned during my days in Rohan, it is that your people are stronger and full of more fire than any people I have met before. I do not think that Rohan will fall so easily, love,"

I looked at my feet for a while, feeling tired. "Come," Legolas whispered. "You must eat,"

I led him to the kitchens through the servant's entrance. There we found bread and cheese, as well as watered mead and tea. Legolas commented on the heartiness of the food.

"Your people enjoy rustic meals, don't they?" he said as he downed a small cup of beef stew.

"Well, we have no place for lush gardens on the plains, and so our crops must be plants that are sturdy and wholesome,"

"In Mirkwood, we have great orchards and gardens that blossom all year long. We eat mainly fruits and vegetables, with meat added sparingly,"

"So I have heard of elves, and I myself am not an immense fan of such steady diets of meat and cheese. But it all there is to offer, especially during the fall and winter,"

Our conversation went on, and the fact that I could have meaningful, lengthy conversations with another person surprised me greatly. Usually I kept to myself, or spoke to Meleare about my troubles. But talking with Legolas was as easy as breathing.

It was something about the way he tilted his head when I spoke, or the way his lips would ease into a smile whenever I did, or how gentle his laugh was at even the slightest of jokes. The way his eyes seemed to drink in my own, pulling me in and holding me close without any touch at all.

Eventually, I paused in my casual banter and stood. "I feel like our hour is up," I explained.

Legolas nodded and stood too, reaching out for my hand. I led him back to Meduseld, and parted hands with him as we entered. As my eyes adjusted briefly to the dim, I saw then two small children, rugged and weak, seated before Theoden. Eowyn, still in her mourning gown and cheeks still pink with un-dried tears, sat with them, tending to them as they devoured bowls of stew. I went to Theoden at once, and he nodded as I stood beside him.

Eowyn looked at me for a moment as she stood before her uncle. "They were unarmed. They had no warning," she said, her voice thick with compassion.

"Where is mama?" the littlest figure, a girl, piped out. Eowyn shushed her and bent down beside her once more, laying a cool hand over her brow.

Theoden sat down in his throne, his head in a single hand. I stood beside his throne, while Gandalf sat on the other.

"This is but a taste of Saruman's folly," he said, his hand on Theoden's seat, "We will see many more orphans and widows if an end is not put to this madness,"

"Orcs and men are running through the Westfold, burning as they go. Uncle, you must do something," Eowyn pleaded, drawing near to the King, who now looked weary and bereft.

Aragorn, seated near Gimli and Legolas, put down his pipe. "Fight, my lord. You must fight Saruman. Draw his armies out of Isengard and fight while you still can,"

Theoden looked up, a fire returning once more to his eyes. He stood and I made a motion to follow, but he held out a hand behind him and a stayed beside his throne. "No. I would not risk open war upon my people,"

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn countered.

Theoden looked at him ruefully, clearly losing his temper. "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn was king of Rohan,"

The hall went silent, and Gimli pulled his pipe from his mouth. Legolas looked on at Theoden, and then glanced back at me.

"I will lead my people to Helm's Deep," he announced, and looked back at Gandalf. Gandalf said nothing, nor did anyone. "We leave at dawn,"


	11. Chapter 11: Possessions

That evening became a whirlwind of activity very quickly. The Rohirrim were mustered at once, which meant that my help was needed in the stables. The cooks needed help packing enough food for all of the soldiers, and so my help was needed in the kitchens. Marmagen needed help getting laundry back to its respected owners, and so my help was needed in the laundry. And Theoden needed my help packing his own things and sending messages. But worst of all, I needed to pack myself and tend to Meleare, and yet on top of all of those things, I wanted desperately to be with Legolas.

After Theoden's announcement, Legolas and I embraced for a single minute, and he looked at me deeply.

"I will meet you in your room tonight, sweet, after all that must be done is taken care of," he murmured, and I nodded.

We parted with words we still needed to say clinging to the air between us, but I turned back to Theoden and stood at his side.

"Calahdra, your help will be needed in the stables. See to Snowmane personally, and then to your own horse. After that, see to food for you and me, and then return to my chambers to deliver the food. My armor will be waiting there, and it will need attending to. Find Lindon to polish and pack it. He is the son of Miriam, the head maid. Then find Hama and send him to me,"

I did my best to memorize his instructions. And thus began my evening.

I went to the stables quickly, knowing how chaotic they would become. Snowmane was stabled in the same barn as Meleare, and I was thankful for that. Trying to cross the horse-yard would be near impossible within several minutes.

Snowmane snorted at me as I neared, and I went to him slowly, knowing that the noise and stress in the barn would bother even the greatest of horses, such as him.

I spoke softly in elvish to him as I scrubbed him down and polished his coat. I picked his hooves, smoothed insect repelling lotions all over him, and treated him to carrots and apples in reward for calm behavior.

I was only distracted when several men attempted to lead Theodred's steed, Brego, from his stall. I watched the poor beast with pity as he screamed in outrage and fear. He reared up and lashed out as the men pulled him with ropes and chains. My heart ached for him, for the madness of war and loss was clear in his princely eyes. I had always admired the prince's horse, and to see him in such anguish was painful indeed.

Eowyn watched in sadness as well as she tended to her gelding. Aragorn came up beside her, taking one of the ropes from one of the men. The others watched warily, but Aragorn came right up to the horse, holding onto his halter firmly. He spoke calmly in elvish, petting the stallion and removing the ropes.

Eowyn came to him. "I have heard of the grace of elves and their power over beasts, but never did I think to see it in a ranger from the north,"

Aragorn looked at her gently. "I was raised by the elves of Rivendell" he explained in short, and Eowyn went silent, her eyes going wide.

"Turn him loose," Aragorn commanded the men, "He has seen enough of war,"

The men looked at each other for a moment, but Brego was calm once more, and they complied. Aragorn came then to me.

"This is Snowmane, then?" he asked, resting a hand on the valiant stallion's neck.

"He is," I said. "Possibly the most handsome stallion and strongest warhorse in all of Rohan,"

"I have heard of his power, and his heritage. But you forget that Shadowfax shares this barn with him,"

I smiled. "That is true. But Shadowfax is no warhorse. He is a prince of his own making,"

Aragorn smiled and nodded. "Indeed, that is so. And where is your horse, Calahdra?"

"She is there," I said, pointing several stalls away, where Meleare watched me. "Meleare is my mare,"

Aragorn chuckled, probably at her name. "She is young," he commented.

"She is three years old, and acts younger yet,"

Aragorn went to her, and spoke to her as he had Brego.

i"This man speaks as you do, Calahdra," /iMeleare said, her voice sounding in my head as it always had.

i"He was raised much the same way as I, Mel. He is a good man and he will not harm you,"/i

Meleare gave a huff of affirmation. Aragorn's eyes met my own as I smiled at my horse. He walked back to me after giving Mel pat on the nose.

When he had come close enough for a whisper, he looked at me seriously. "Have you always been able to mind-speak?"

"Only with Mel, but she is the only one I have ever tried to speak with,"

"That is a powerful gift, Calahdra. It is dangerous, too,"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks turn hot. "I would never use it to control another,"

Aragorn looked about for a moment, and then leaned closer to me, "It is not you that I distrust. It is those who might use your power to bend to their own will,"

"It will never happen. I am strong, Aragorn, and my mind is well practiced in the arts of defense. I would not yield easily, should I be captured," I took a deep breath, and looked at him straight in the eyes, "I have learned, also, how to destroy my mind should torture go ill,"

Aragorn's eyes widened. "You are well practiced in dark arts, Calahdra," his voice had lowered to a growl. But I raised my voice a little, fearing that he might think ill of me.

"Not well practiced, only well read. And my mother knew of my skills, and she taught me what she could. Trust me Aragorn, my powers are sound. I know well the consequences should I be captured. I am prepared to do what I must should that happen. Anyone with a gift such as mine should,"

Aragorn studied me for a moment more, and then lowered his head. "I do not doubt you, Calahdra. I am simply wary, and know much of these things my self," His voice lowered once more, "I, too, am able to mindspeak. Not over long distances or in times of stress and distraction, but I am able,"

i"I am honored that you would tell me such a thing, Aragorn,"/i I said to him, turning back to Snowmane's mane, which I was braiding intricately in traditional battle styles.

i"As I am honored by you, Calahdra, Cahlan's daughter," /i

"Quel esta, Calahdra," he said, taking his leave. I nodded to him in parting, and went to Meleare.

i"Does he know of your power?"/i She asked as I began the same process of polishing and massaging over again.

i"Yes, and he has the same power as well, although his is much weaker," /iI told her.

i"He is a fine man, Calahdra. Would I embarrass you if I told you that any foal of his and yours would be fine indeed?"/i she said, pawing at the ground. I shoved a carrot into her mouth.

i"Yes, you silly mare, you would. Besides, I have found someone, Meleare. Someone who you will find just as noble,"/i I said, quieting my voice within her head somewhat.

Meleare gave me the equine version of a highly speculative look. i"Have you now?"/i

I nodded, and worked at braiding her forelock. i"He is the elf you met the other day, Mel. And every time I look at him, I feel safe. Every time I touch him, I feel as though a fire is burning through my veins,"/i

i"Then you have found the one,"/i Mel said, and she then whinnied triumphantly, i"I knew you'd find him someday, Cal,"/i

i"I know. I just wish I would have believed you,"/i

We stood in silence then, and by the time I had stopped, she looked as beautiful and as regal as Snowmane. We said our goodbyes and I kissed her nose as I always did. She whinnied softly in response, and I smiled at her.

I left quickly and went to the kitchens, which were smoldering with the heat of the ovens.

"Cal, you're here for the King, aren't you?" one of the cooks inquired as soon as I entered.

I nodded and a large mass of bread and cheese and meat was deposited into my arms.

I returned to Theoden's quarters, which was one of then antechambers off the main floor of Meduseld. Hama was already there, as well as a boy whom I assumed was Lindon.

"There she is," Hama said as I came into the regal room, which was dressed with furs and velvets. "It is good seeing you at your rightful place beside Theoden, Calahdra," Hama said as I placed the food I had gathered on the King's bed, which was covered also in armor and clothing, as well as various parcels and trinkets.

"Thank you, master Hama. It is good to be at is side, as exhausting as I am finding it to be,"

"Winded already?" Hama joked, prodding my shoulder.

"A little," I smiled back. Lindon was already polishing the king's chest plate, and I looked back at the food.

"Take what you need, and then you can go, little miss," Hama said, still packing.

I did as he said, taking only a little bread and cheese. As I rounded the door, I has forced to stop short as Eowyn nearly collided with me.

"Oh! My apologies, lady Calahdra,"

"Do not fret, my lady. We're all a bit lost at the moment, I think,"

"That is sure," she said, and then looked at me again, as if she had not seen me before.

"It is strange to me, Calahdra, that I did not think to become better acquainted with you before. I think that Grima's sorcery fogged all of our minds, and in my blindness I rarely thought much of you. But here you are now, taking up what duties of a Shieldmaiden I never could,"

I bit my lip for a moment, and then looked at her eyes, which were as cold as ever, yet lit with some light I had not seen in her before. "I think, my lady, that no sense of tradition or duty could keep you from where you know you are needed, Eowyn. I do not think that I have any more right to be called a Shieldmaiden than you,"

Eowyn gave me a wistful look. "Perhaps not, but perhaps so. Few can judge the skill of a woman, for we are wily and slow to share our true natures with anyone. But I must go, Calahdra, for I am needed elsewhere, as I am sure you are as well. I wish very much that I knew more about you, Lady of Fenmarch. Let us ride together tomorrow for a while, so that we might become better known to one another,"

"I agree, Lady Eowyn. That would be wise of us, I am sure,"

We nodded at each other politely and took our leave, and as we did, I wondered if Eowyn felt as I did. If she felt as though our brief meeting then seemed as important to her as it did to me.

I went to Marmagen then, knowing she would be flustered as her the folk of Edoras tried to collect their things before they parted their homes, for all of Edoras was to be emptied, and they had been told to bring only what they must.

She was indeed frustrated and very near to tears when I arrived. She embraced me strongly as she saw me, and immediately sent me out with bags of garments to deliver to certain people and places. I ran errands for her for an hour or so, and then took my leave.

I trudged back to my bedroom, feeling tired and sore. I needed a bath and a hot meal, but I knew that my bath would be cold and that there was barely any chance of food that night.

I groaned at the thought as I turned my key and pushed open my door, but cut my voice as soon as I saw a figure on my bed in the dark. I lit a lamp at once, one hand on my knife. But there, grinning wildly, was Legolas. I sighed deeply and closed the door, locking it behind me.

I went to him, hardly feeling my feet or my fingers. He held out his arms to me, still smiling, and I kissed him passionately.

He pulled me down to him, so that all of my weight rested on top of him, and his lips moved quickly over mine. He unclasped my cloak and tossed it to the floor, undid my braided bun, and let his fingers flow through my locks with gentle, yet passionate strokes, and assisted me in pulling off my boots with his bare feet.

I pulled away for a moment to kiss his brow. "I am glad you are here, meleth nin. This night was tiresome and weary, and I could not stop thinking of you,"

"The same is true for me, sweetheart. I missed you terribly and could not help but worry about you," he stroked my knotted hair, and kissed the tip of my nose, "I knew you would be very tired, and so I brought food for you, and hot water," he gestured to my wash tub, which was adorned with a halo of wispy steam. And sure enough, a covered plate sat on my dressing table, complete with a mug of mead and a glass of water.

I gawked at him, entirely filled with adoration. "I love you," I said, entirely overdramatically. He smiled at me and chuckled, his hands rubbing circles and loops into my back.

"Go, get clean. I will leave and bathe myself, and I will return within half an hour," he said.

Part of me wept inside, but I nodded, still overwhelmed by his display of kindness.

He left with a quick kiss, and I stripped down as soon as he left. I wallowed in the warmth of the bath and washed my skin and hair lovingly. I felt very pleased with myself in that moment, feeling as though I deserved this bath very much.

I dressed in a pair of warm, fur-lined leggings and an old, worn tunic. I braided my hair for simplicity's sake, and then set to packing my things. All of my weapons and battle gear were easily fit into a single saddle bag, and I put a spare dress, tunic, leggings, and several undergarments in another pack. My gowns and corsets, I left behind, as well as my small hoard of beauty products and jewelry. My only dilemma was my lyre.

I understood that the road to Helm's Deep was dangerous, and that there would be no place for music or song while on the road, but there was a chance that I would not return to Edoras, or that it could be attacked while I was gone. My lyre was my second greatest possession besides my necklace, and my necklace went with me wherever I went.

And so I set my lyre between its usual spot beside my bed and where my packs lay.

Just as I turned to my food, a knock on my door caught my attention.

I leapt up and opened the door at once, sure it was Legolas. Instead, it was a soldier in uniform, a package in his hands.

"I am to deliver this to you from Theoden king himself," The soldier said, clearly confused at his task, but polite nonetheless. He handed me the bundle.

"Thank you," I said, and nodded in farewell. I took the hefty bundle back to my bed, and unwrapped it as I sat cross-legged in the middle of the duvet.

Wrapped within a green cloak, embroidered with white, was a shirt of mail and a pair of well made leather riding breeches. Also, within the shirt of mail were a note and a chain with an odd token on it.

The note read: i"Calahdra-these items are for you to wear in battle, so that you might appear to truly be a fine soldier of Rohan. Also within this parcel is a necklace you might wear in remembrance of your King. It was a jewel of the last true Shieldmaiden of Meduseld, Eriodot of Snowbourne. She died many years ago, but left this jewel for the next woman who would take up her place alongside the King. It was left to her by the Shieldmaiden who trained her, and the Shieldmaiden before her, and so forth. It is an heirloom, Calahdra. Wear it with pride.

Westu Hail,

Theoden,

King of Rohan and first Marshall of the Riddemark /i

I set the letter down and picked up the necklace. On a finely woven chain that appeared as strong as it did regal was set a single emerald within a circlet of white gold. The jewel was precious, and it seemed to sparkle with the fires of those who had worn it previously. I placed it around my neck at once, and held my palm to it, warming the cool metal with my hand.

Another knock sounded at my door, and I went to the door.

"Hello, Cal," Legolas said as I let him in. He bent and kissed my brow, and then went to my bed, which seemed to be our usual resting place. He caught sight of the things resting there, and sat to inspect them. I would have gone to him if it had not been for the fact that he looked more godlike than I had ever seen him.

His hair was damp and wild, it's usual straight lengths and tight braids replaced by loose waves and braids meant for convenience, instead of convenience and style. His tunic was unbelted, and his arms were bare. He was barefoot once again, which seemed quite sensual to me.

The thought that this was all a result of him bathing immediately sent my mind into a whirlwind of confusing, passionate visions of him naked and immersed in steaming, scented water.

I shook my head to rid myself of the heat now engulfing my body and Legolas caught sight of me.

"What is it Calahdra?" he asked, laughing a little at my antics.

"Umm...," I said, staying pinned against my door, "You look very nice," but my voice slipped, revealing my obsession.

Legolas laughed and stood, walking to me slyly. As he placed his hands against the sides of my face and looked down at me, my stomach burned and my skin itched. "Have I aroused you, kitten?" he asked playfully, "Is this too much for you to handle?"

He brought his hands down to my shoulders, than down my arms and to my waist. He then continued to my hips, and to my buttocks, which he held with both hands.

I looked up at his lips, and licked my own without thought.

"Do not fight it, lirimaer. Just let go,"

And those were all the words I needed.

With a slight rise of my chin, I let my eyes absorb his at once. I pressed my hands to his chest and then looped them up around his neck and onto his back, where they laid gently. And then, letting my courage bubble over, I raised my right leg up over his left, and hooked it around his thigh.

Legolas half groaned, half sighed, and whispered my name. I did not need to look anywhere more than his eyes to see what I had done to him. The way that his hands pressed against my buttocks, and the way his lips trembled as he looked at me told me what his desire had built into. And with that single, devious thought, I pressed my lips to his and we escaped.


	12. Chapter 12: Futile

The first hints of dawn woke me as the sun basked on my face. Looking over, I saw that Legolas was still resting, his eyes opened, as was the way of elves, but glazed over, and his breathing slow and lethargic. I smiled at him, hoping he might sense it even if he was wrapped up in some other dream.

I let my mind drift to the night before as I stared at his slightly parted lips. So soft he had remained, even while kissing me so ardently. After a good ten minutes of our muffled sighs and smiles, he had laid me on my bed and put me to sleep with a lullaby. I had fallen into the refuge of sleep quickly, and I had known that I was safe no matter what the next day might bring as long as Legolas was beside me.

As the sounds of an awaking Edoras pushed past my window, I put a finger to Legolas' lips. His lips parted further, and I leaned in, giving him a soft kiss with which I hoped to rouse him. I looked into his open eyes as I pulled back and watched as the green pools of light smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"Quel amrun, lirimaer," he returned, and he sat up, pulling a hand through his corn silk hair.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, marveling in his god-like beauty. He looked back at me.

"Very well," he said, giving me a coy smile.

We then dressed in silence, backs to each other for privacy, which I found odd, although somehow necessary. I dressed in light battle gear; a red tunic and my shirt of mail beneath a leather vest and my green cloak; my new riding breeches, my black riding boots, and both my necklaces. I braided my hair and smudged my usual bit of kohl beneath my eyes.

Legolas, in his original outfitting of a blue tunic, green over-tunic, grey cloak, and leather bracers, gave me a wry grin of acceptance. "Charming, yet deadly," he commented, and I smiled back at him with a similar notion.

Legolas had apparently brought all of his things with him, which surprised me because they all fit within a small knapsack. He slung his bow and quiver, as well as two curved knives, over his shoulder and looked at me in waiting. I grabbed my own bags, and I ushered him out with a nod. Just as I raised my foot to pass through the doorway, I stopped.

For all I knew, this could be the last time I ever saw this room. I swallowed my doubts, however, and passed into the hallway, locking my door behind me. Legolas put a comforting arm around my shoulder.

"You will return, meleth nin, I am sure of it," he said quietly, and then he brushed the third parcel I had brought with me; my lyre. "So you settled on bringing it," he commented.

"How did you know I did not wish to?" I asked, perplexed.

"Well, from where you had placed it, it was clear that its fate was unknown,"

I nodded solemnly. "It may not survive this journey, and yet I fear that I may never have seen it again had I left it here,"

"You love it much," he said, "I must hear you play,"

I laughed a little, amused at the passion in his voice. "Perhaps this evening, Legolas. There will be need for entertainment, I think,"

Legolas we both went silent for a moment, contemplating what the day could bring. Gently, he massaged my neck with his hands. "I think so, too," he said.

We made our way to the stables eventually, for the throngs of nervous soldiers and their horses made the usually short walk quite treacherous.

Legolas found Gimli nearby Arod's stable, and I saddled Meleare quickly in order to join them. We led our horses out to the lawn before Meduseld, where all of the soldiers were congregating. I searched out Theoden and went to him.

"Ah, Calahdra," he greeted me. I placed a hand over my heart in return, nodding my head. "I have no need of you this morning, but I will send a message to you should I need you later on,"

I nodded, and returned to Legolas. I relayed Theoden's words to him, and he nodded. The cacophony of men and horses made speech uncomfortable, and so we sat in silence on our horses instead of carrying on a conversation.

An hour after dawn, we found ourselves outside the city's gates, looking upon the barren fields of Rohan. I rode quite near to Legolas, and the heat of his body helped to warm the chills of anxiety rolling down my spine.

He must have sensed my growing feeling of loss, for eventually he reached out to me. I took his hand in mine and looked at him. A single tear rolled across my cheek before it was carried away by the wind.

Legolas squeezed my hand. "All is well," he murmured, and his voice must have awoken a drowsy Gimli, who was seated behind him. The rugged dwarf looked at me for a moment, and then he gave me a gentle look.

"Ah, lass," he said, and I let my eyes fall in shame. I had never been one to cry, and yet leaving Edoras when I knew the chances of returning were slim was a heartbreaking notion.

Eowyn came to me then, and she must have seen the tears in my eyes, for she was silent for a time. "May I ride with you?" she asked after my fit had subsided. I nodded, and gave her a weak smile.

As soon as I saw Theoden rounding the tides of people waiting to set out from Edoras, I nudged Meleare forward and led Legolas, Gimli, and Eowyn behind him. It took nearly an hour to exit the city, for the masses of people lining the streets and alleyways of Edoras were quite difficult to navigate through, even while riding a war horse and having a twenty-soldier guard ahead of you.

Once outside the city, Eowyn immediately attempted to engage in conversation. I assumed that she was trying to assuage her own guilt at ignoring me for two months, and the thought rattled me. But I was polite, and returned what conversation I could.

Eventually, harmless talk of the comings and goings of various nobles from Meduseld turned to the arrival of Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli. I skimmed over the topic, feeling that if Legolas had not been at liberty to tell _me_ why he had come to Edoras, than speculation wasn't going to get anyone very far either.

All the while, Legolas rode in silence beside me, sometimes starting up a conversation with Gimli, who now walked beside him, or else simply watching the scenery. I often looked him over, trying to gauge his emotions without interrupting Eowyn's chatter.

I was trying so very hard not to be rude, and it was not as though I did not appreciate the White Lady's company. However, I was receiving the vague impression that Eowyn's only reason for riding with me was that she was so vastly lonely she would have spoken to the first noble woman to have passed her way. I certainly had a great amount of respect for her, for she was the only person who had kept Theoden alive these past years, and I was sure that the emptiness and bitter solitude of tending to the ailing King had worn on her. But I felt somewhat unattached to her, for friendship had never come easy for me, and she herself was coming off quite strong.

And hour or so passed, and I was finding myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Legolas must have noticed after a time, and much to my relief, he saved me before another of Eowyn's attempts at reviving the dying conversation between us arose.

"My Lady Eowyn, would you mind telling me what that is over there?" he interrupted gently, pointing vaguely in some far-off direction. I smiled and I saw his answering smile from the corner of my eye.

I rode then in silence, letting my gaze wander over the weary travelers before me. The long stream of those emptying Edoras was incomprehensible. I had not been aware that so many people could have possibly fit within the capital city.

All about me cries of children, nervous laughter, and polite banter rose up about the moors. Part of me cherished the proof of life the sounds carried, but at the same time....

Many, if not all, of these people would perish if Helm's Deep could not hold.

Life was so futile.

I shook my head, ridding myself of such thoughts. My duty was to my King, not to sentimental thoughts leading to darkness and despair.

Somehow, Legolas had convinced Eowyn to ride on to Aragorn. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight.

Legolas chuckled and I looked over to him. He gave me an apologetic smile.

"She's so lonely, Legolas. What was I supposed to do?" I asked.

"No, you did the right thing, Cal," he said, and he looked out to the mountains, sitting on the horizon. I watched the expressions change on his face, and I longed to reach out to him, for he was obviously thinking about his own loneliness.

But before my hand even neared him, Meleare screamed in panic beneath me. A split second later, she bolted forward and wheeled around to the right in mid-rear. Bucking out behind her, she sprinted forward. Caught entirely unawares, I lunged for her reigns while pressing into her conscious at the same time. Meleare did not respond to either effort, and instead she reared once more. I gripped her tightly, thanking my father's insistence that I was trained by the best of horse-lords.

"Meleare, calm yourself!" I called out in elvish, as she landed once more with a scream. I thought she had come to, for she stood quivering for a few seconds. Behind me, I could hear the exclamations of Legolas and the other travelers who had witnessed Mel's fit.

_"Mel, what happened?" _I asked,

But she did not respond. Instead, she reared up again. Convinced she was mad, I yanked her bridle hard. This did no good either. Instead, she bolted forward again, and she bucked once more.

I yanked at her reigns, beginning to lose patience. "Mel!" I cried, a sweat breaking out on my back, "Stop this!"

She quieted for a moment, but then she began to snort again.

_"Mel, what is wrong with you? Stop this now!"_ I scolded her, seriously concerned for her. She had never, in all the years I had known her, displayed such awful behavior.

_"Snake," _she managed, before rearing again. I was not ready for this, though, and I fell to the side. It would have been a harmless fall if it was not for the rock that positioned itself beneath my left calf. I cussed quite loudly as I felt granite break skin and hit bone.

Mel stood stock still beside me, having realized what she had done.

I felt blood soak through my leggings, and as I attempted to roll over and sit up, my ears still ringing with adrenaline and shock, Legolas had come to me. He had one hand pressed to the small of my back, keeping me still, and another clamped around my wrist.

"Calahdra?" he asked, his voice quite loud in my ringing ears.

"My calf...damn that fool horse," I muttered.

Legolas turned me over and pulled my legging up over my knee.

"That's not good at all," he commented. His fingers traced the skin about the lesion. I lifted my head to look at the injury.

Blood was gushing from a five inch gash in my leg, just above my ankle.

Aragorn and an unknown soldier were leaning over me now.

"Aragorn, can you bring me my kit please?"

"Legolas, are you sure you don't want me to tend to it?" Aragorn asked. For a moment Legolas looked as though he was going to protest, but with a look at my eyes and another look at the injury, he nodded.

Aragorn took his place as Legolas went to fetch his pack.

"Aragorn, Meleare mentioned something about a snake before she knocked me off," I told him, feeling panicky all of the sudden.

Aragorn turned to a still trembling Meleare. He looked her over while holding my leg down with his hand.

"Something bit her," he said lowly, and I sat up at once. My head rang with the rush of blood, but I looked to her legs. Sure enough, on her left back leg were two puncture wounds.

Two sets of hands pushed me back down.

"Oh no, Calahdra. Lay down," Legolas admonished me.

"Legolas, Meleare was bitten by a snake. Please, you have to help her," I said, struggling against him and Aragorn's hands.

"A snake?" he repeated, and he immediately went to her.

_"Mel, what did the snake look like? Did it have a rattle on its tail?" _I asked, my heart racing.

_"Yes, it did. It was brown and yellow, with little diamonds all down it's back," _she said, and I could hear the fear in her voice. Meleare had always been nervous about snakes. The anger I had had with her was replaced by pity at once.

"Legolas, she needs medicine!"

"What kind?"

"I...I'm not sure. But...Vivendi would know. She's a healer that specializes in snake bites. Please, you must help Meleare,"

Meleare was the only family I had left, and I knew that bite from a cliff-rattler would kill her if left untended.

Legolas gave me a gentle look.

"I will find Vivendi and help Meleare if you will lie down and let Aragorn tend to that cut,"

"Fine," I snapped, feeling quite overwhelmed.

Aragorn had already braced my leg and was wiping the blood from it. He had pulled a sour smelling liquid in a small vial from his pack and swiped it around the wound. I hissed at the way it stung.

By now, Eowyn, Gimli, several soldiers, and an assortment of city folk had arranged themselves around me. The way they were looking at me made me flush with embarrassment.

Aragorn had strung a needle and had beckoned for Eowyn to kneel beside me. With one hand she braced my thigh to the ground, and with another she squeezed my hand. At least I was grateful for her company now.

In the ten minutes it took for Aragorn to sew my leg up, Legolas had found Vivendi, who appraised Mel's bite and was forcing a vile of some sort of yellowish potion down her throat. Legolas was clearly coaxing Meleare to cooperate in mind-speak. I was more grateful for his existence within my life than I could put into words.

When Aragorn had finished, and Meleare was given Vivendi's approval, Legolas came to me and pulled me up into his arms.

"Calahdra, I don't want you walking on that leg for the rest of the day. You will need to re-bandage it every twelve hours and you mustn't get it wet. The stitches can be removed in a week's time, but until then, you must mind your leg and see to a healer if you have any qualms about it," Aragorn instructed me, handing Legolas back his pack.

Vivendi then came to me. "Your mare will be fine. Cliff-rattler venom is weak in large animals, and your mare is young and tough. Just watch out for her, and if she looks as though she is in pain, come to me at once,"

I nodded to the woman, and retrieved two gold coins from my sash, pressing them into her hand. It was more than she would make as a healer in a week, yet it was worth it to me. Meleare's life was more precious than all the gold I would ever have.

Vivendi stared at the gold for a moment, a variety of emotions playing out over her face. When she looked back up at me, she was frowning.

"Vivendi, Meleare...,"

She was shaking her head, and she pressed her hand to mine. "No, my lady. Gold means nothing anymore. Only allegiance, only duty means anything in these dark times,"

I stared at her, shocked by the truth in her words. I watched her back as she walked on.

Legolas placed me on Hasufel and I stared dejectedly at my own hands. The pain that Aragorn had somehow made disappear was now returning.

"Love?" Legolas asked. I looked down to him, where his head bobbed next to my hip as he led the grey horse on.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, with tenderness in his eyes that I had never thought possible.

I nodded weakly, and looked down at my bandaged calf.

"I feel like such a fool," I muttered, looking down at my hands once more. Meleare suddenly lowered her head as well. She walked beside me, led by Gimli.

"You are no fool, Calahdra. Nor are you, Meleare," Legolas said, with a glance over to my sullen mare. "Just unlucky,"

I shook my head, undoing my braid so that my hair spilled over my back and around my shoulders.

We walked on in silence until the King called an hour long halt for lunch. Legolas lowered me from Hasufel so that I could join him, Gimli, Aragorn, Eowyn, and Gandalf for a bowl of stew.

Aragorn was cooking, and from the enticing smells wafting from the pot he was leaning over, he was a cook beyond fair.

"Is your mare well?" Gimli asked as he sat beside me.

"Yes, she has been seen too. Although, I think her pride has been badly bruised," I said with a look over his shoulder to where Meleare stood behind Hasufel, grazing with a dull look in her eyes.

"Mine would be as well," the dwarf said with a chuckle.

Aragorn finished the stew and gave me the first bowl. I lifted a spoonful to my lips, blowing it gently. Legolas watched me the whole while, and I noticed the sudden intensity of his eyes as he watched me purse my lips. A sadistic voice inside my head cried out in pleasure, and with a slight narrowing of my eyes, I placed the spoon inside my mouth slowly, pulling my lips around the metal and removing the spoon with a tiny popping noise.

Legolas' grip on my waist tightened with each of my movements.

"Aragorn, this is splendid! It's so savory!" I said, adding a bit more mirth to my voice than necessary, but enjoying it all the while.

Aragorn gave me a polite smile. "Thank you, Calahdra,"

He must have noticed Legolas' expression and grip on me, as well as the way I was licking my lips, for his eyes widened and he nearly doubled over into the fire. He laughed for a long while.

No one else seemed to have noticed, however, for they stared at Aragorn with odd expressions on their faces. Legolas, however, leaned in so that his lips brushed my ear.

"You think that's funny, don't you?" he whispered darkly.

"Hilarious," I said, and with a quick turn of my head, I kissed him full on the mouth. He smiled beneath my lips, and kissed me back with ardor. When he pulled away, he was grinning brightly.

All eyes were on us now, and I blushed in embarrassment. I shoveled more soup into my mouth, but a piece of potato fell onto my lap. Legolas laughed quietly, picked up the vegetable, and plopped it back into my mouth.

"They're like children, aren't they?" I heard Aragorn say to Gimli.

"Worse than that. They're like newlyweds," the dwarf disagreed.

"I was going to say rutting rabbits," Eowyn muttered.

There was a very uncomfortable silence as we all looked at her. And then we collectively burst into laughter.


	13. Chapter 13: Shambles

A/N: Hey! I realize that I posted chapter 12 twice. That was an accident, and I think I've got it cleared up now. I owe a thank you to those of you that caught my error. Thank you!-Whisper512

* * *

The day passed slowly, and as the sun began to set, painting the scenes around us gold and red and purple, Theoden called for a final halt.

Legolas brought up the question of sleeping arrangements as he slung a tent from Arod's back. I knew I could easily sleep with Eowyn, who had already offered, although I had politely declined simply because I knew this dilemma would arise.

Legolas and I had no trouble sleeping together the last two nights because the arrangement was discreet. Only three other people knew of that fact, and it was easy that way. However, if we shared a tent tonight, our romance would become public, and I was not sure if I was prepared for that.

I had never enjoyed attention. Stares burned me from the inside, questions made my head spin. If I heard my name used by someone who did not know I was listening, a feeling like ice would fill me from my feet to my head.

And as much as I wished to be able to sleep besides Legolas and enjoy his company, the rumors that would spring up were sure to tell that story wrong.

The entire fiasco made my head hurt.

"Love, if it would be easier for you...," he began, watching me cautiously as I sat on the ground, my injured leg lying out before me. The pain in my calf was beginning to bite at my temper.

"No, Legolas. It's fine," I growled, and I watched as he began to pitch our tent.

I felt quite useless as I sat on the ground, leaning on our packs. I wasn't used to being so injured that I was rendered incapacitated. I had my fair share of maladies and wounds in my life time. A variety of broken bones, cuts, and fevers had all left their marks. But never once had any of such instances kept me from where I wished to be.

Legolas made quick work of our small tent. After depositing our packs inside and laying out a single bed roll, he came to me and helped me up. I stood on my right foot, and set my arms around his neck. Gently, he put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me little closer to him.

The look in his eyes was startling. He was clearly hungry, clearly in want of something. I raised an eyebrow in challenge.

He brought his lips to my ear, his head hovering before me. He opened his mouth a little, as if to whisper something to me like he sometimes did. Instead, he let his lips close over the outside fold of my ear. I sighed in ecstasy, tilting my head towards his hold on me.

As his tongue slowly traced the crease in my ear, I felt my breathing falter.

"Legolas," I panted, feeling a fire rise up within me. I was not ready for this. I knew that I could not handle the way he was skewing my senses.

"Yes?" he whispered, still sliding his tongue along my ear, now tickling my ear lobe.

"Legolas, please...," I squeaked. I needed him to stop.

"Yes?" he asked again, moving his lips back up along my ear. Suddenly, he was at the slightly pointed tip of my ear. I choked on my pleasure, and the fire roared within me.

But the voice was screaming in my head. The memories were breaking through. The world was burning all around me.

And I slipped from his grasp, just like how the world had let me slip through its own fingers.

The difference, though, was that Legolas noticed me when I fell.

In a last attempt to regain my balance, I kicked out my left leg, and the searing pain in my calf only incapacitated me further.

Half lying on the ground, I shut my eyes in shame and pain. My head was spinning with the aftermath of all the things that had just happened.

"Cal?" Legolas was asking repeatedly, kneeling beside me. He had taken one of my hands into his, and was stroking my forehead delicately with the other.

I looked up at him, blinking many times to restore my vision.

"Meleth, are you alright?" he asked.

I nodded once, and looked to our intertwined hands. Slowly, I pulled my hand free. Shock passed over Legolas' face.

"Legolas, I'm sorry," I whispered, attempting to stand, "I need a moment to be...alone," I said, allowing all the guilt I felt fall forward into my words.

He gave me a pitiful, broken look. It nearly tore me apart to see such a thing in his eyes, but I knew that I needed a break. I needed space to breathe, a place where my thoughts were not made up purely of him.

He helped me to stand, and then he let go of me.

"Calahdra, I'm sorry. I lost control...," He said, trying desperately to get me to look at him. But I felt empty in that moment. I shook my head and turned away, walking on my leg even though the pain was near to crippling.

"Cal, you can not walk on that leg. Please, let me help...,"

The emptiness imploded, and out spilled all the darkness that I had held within. The anger, the pain, the mounting stress that was building into something I had refrained from releasing. And as I let go of it, I knew that it was the worst thing I would ever do. But I couldn't stop it. I couldn't hold onto to this anymore.

"NO!" I screamed. I could feel the heads turning towards us. I could feel the surprise those who had heard me felt. But I didn't care anymore. I couldn't feel anything else anymore.

Legolas looked at me.

"Calahdra," he pleaded, but I was shaking my head fervently once more.

"No," I said again, lowering my voice to a growl.

"Calahdra Medlinniel, listen to me! Look at me!" Legolas' voice was rising with some power I could not identify. The terrible energy radiating from his voice left me no choice but to obey his command.

"What madness is this?" he murmured, striding to me and holding my face in his hands. "What has taken hold of you, meleth?" he asked.

I shook my head again, mouthing that pointless refusal again and again.

I did not understand what I was doing. I did not know why I felt the way I did. As if something had taken hold of me, tearing things from me that I would rather forget.

"Calahdra, tell me what is wrong and I will help you," he said.

I knew he spoke the truth. I knew it with all my heart. But suddenly I felt so angry. So incredibly angry. Angry at everything. Angry at the soldiers who had mocked me. Angry at Meleare for throwing me from her and causing this wretched injury. Angry at my mother, for her downright cruelty towards me. Angry at my father for abandoning his family, for abandoning me. Angry at my brothers, for what they had done to me. Angry at myself, for feeling all of these things at once. For being so exceedingly weak and for acting the way I did. And worst of all, angry at Legolas, for no reason at all.

"There is always a reason, Calahdra," Legolas murmured.

"What?" I asked, my voice cracking. And then I realized that I had spoken all of the things I had thought aloud.

"There is always a reason for the things we feel. And if you are angry at me, if you truly have taken offense to something I have done, tell me and I will right it," he said.

"But...but I don't know why I am angry at you," I said, suddenly very confused.

"Well, for one, I touched you...I touched you in a way that I shouldn't have," he said.

"Well, yes, but that was a problem because I let it hurt me so," I said, immediately ruling that possible reason out.

"Then I can see no other reason," he said.

"Neither can I," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his chest. He held me lightly, and he rested his chin against the top of my head. He was rubbing slow circles onto my back, and he was soothing me with gentle words. Despite all that, I was shaking in a violent matter similar to a seizure.

"What else is troubling you?" he asked.

"I...I guess I am afraid...," I whispered.

"Yes, I think we all are, Calahdra,"

"No, not afraid of war or battle. I am afraid that my injury will _keep_ me from war or battle,"

Legolas parted from me at once, his eyes teeming with what seemed like fury.

"Keep you from battle?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Well, yes....If we are attacked anytime soon, I won't be much help," I explained, my tremors becoming spasms now as I felt the anger roll off of him.

"You thought, that even with your injury, you might still be able to fight?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"Well, yes, it is my duty," my voice was become increasingly weaker, and my heartbeat increasing in tempo with each passing moment.

"Enough with duty!" he yelled, and I thought for sure that his brilliant green eyes had turned black. "Calahdra, you speak not of duty, or honor, or valiance. You speak of suicide!"

I winced at his words, and the anger suddenly shot back up through me in a way that burned my skin and made my innards crawl.

"Do not say such things to me!" I parried, pointing a finger at him. My injury was screaming in protest, but I ignored it.

"I _will_ say it, Calahdra, for it is the truth! You are too wrapped up in your own misery to see that what you wish for is death! If the enemy strikes Helm's Deep, you will perish like all the others!" he yelled back. Our argument had now switched to elvish, for many people had now congregated near by, clearly curious about the fight arising.

"My place is beside my King, on the field of battle. Not on some pallet in a healer's ward! Do you not think that I know what my chances of living are? Do you not know that I have accepted death as a plausible future?"

"No Calahdra. I do not think that you have accepted death. I think you have embraced it," he hissed, and I saw a pain arise in his eyes as he said the words that mirrored my own.

I turned away at once, feeling the misery he had spoken of overwhelm me. "You treat me like a child, Legolas, and you are acting like a pig. You disgust me,"

I stalked away, feeling loathsome and empty and lonely and ashamed. My limp did not carry me very far, however, and I collapsed not far from our own tent but out of sight from it.

It seemed like an eternity until someone found me, but in that expanse of broken, burning time, I realized that the greatest pain of all was not derived from the things he had told me, nor the look in his eyes or the fury in his voice. It was the fact that he had not come to find me. That he had let me go just at the moment when I truly needed him most.

Of course, I was too prideful to admit that the pain I felt now was of my own creation. He had, and I realized this now, spoken only the truth. It was my own fault that I let it affect me the way that it did.

I could have let go, so long ago. I could have accepted those parts of my past that had etched their way into the deepest parts of my soul. Instead, I had fought them with every inch of my being, and a constant struggle between light and dark had ensued within me ever since.

I had never asked for those things. I had never wished for those things to happen. Maybe that was the reason that I could not seem to wish them away.

For the things we never dream of are often the things that change us the most.

It was a long while until I heard footfalls coming my way. Someone entered the tent behind me, and they must have noticed my silhouette, for they backed out of the tent quite quickly. I heard them rounding the small tent, and then they stopped, just beside me.

"Calahdra?"

It was Aragorn. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Calahdra?" he asked again, kneeling before me. I opened my eyes, and it seemed that they had been closed for so long that the dimming sunlight burned my irises.

"What happened?" he murmured, placing a hand against my face.

"Legolas and I...we...," I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't face the truth of what had happened between us.

"You fought?" he finished for me, looking concerned, but as calm as ever.

I nodded dejectedly.

His hand moved to my calf, which was splayed out beneath me. "Were you walking on this?"

I nodded once more.

He gave me a gentle, and yet somehow piercing look. "Calahdra...,"

"Please don't," I whimpered, "Legolas already...," but I didn't finish. I looked away.

"Calahdra, he loves you. Whatever he said, I'm sure he said it...,"

"...because he cares for me," I finished for him, some amount of sarcasm tainting my voice.

"And that is the truth, Calahdra. Do not doubt it," he said, his voice rising somewhat with caution.

"I just, I never thought...," I shook my head once, attempting to collect my thoughts. "I feel like a fool for rushing into this so fast. I knew all along that allowing myself to act on my feelings, no matter how undeniable they might have been, would only lead to pain. We love each other so much, Aragorn, and yet we know so little about each other,"

Aragorn brought his hand to face again, silencing me.

"I myself can relate only a little. There has only been one whom I have loved in my life. I knew, from the moment I saw her, that I would be able to love no other. Yet our love was forbidden, and so I buried my own feelings. And although I knew her for many years, nearly all my life, I never said a word to reveal the way I felt. It was only recently that we acted on our shared feelings. Only when the threat of losing each other caused us to pursue a love we knew would never manifest into anything.

"So much of me regrets what I allowed myself to do, Calahdra," he said, looking into my eyes. The ache there was obvious, and his hand was clutched around something hanging from his neck. "With nearly all my soul, I wish I could erase the things I said to her, the ways that I touched her. For she will pass into Valinor, with all of her people, and all that she will take with her is a memory and a shadow of what could have been.

"But I know that I would never have forgiven myself had I let her go," he whispered. Looking back at me, he said "You know, deep within yourself, that you would never forgive yourself if you let him go," he told me.

I found my breathing become ragged at what I heard him say. My heart became heavy with what he had admitted to me, and also with the truth of his words.

If this elleth he spoke of passed on to the undying lands, then Aragorn would remain, lonely and broken, for all his life. If he lived on to claim the throne of Gondor then he would have no choice but to take another. And that, I was sure, would seem like the greatest of betrayals to him.

"Who is she?" I asked, "This elf you speak of,"

"Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of Imladris," he said, and the adoration in his voice nearly matched the pain.

I knew of her, of the daughter of Elrond. She was a quarter Elven and therefore she was like me. We both had been born with a choice; a choice to either remain immortal and undying forever, or to become mortal and pass on into shadow before our time was done. But the difference between us was that she loved a mortal, and I had fallen for an elf. If she turned her back on her people, and turned back to Aragorn, then she would perish as he would. I, on the other hand, had been dealt an easier hand. If Legolas and I survived, and our love held fast, then we would have an eternity together.

I understood how Aragorn's fate pained him. By revealing their feelings for each other, Arwen was faced with a terrible choice. Either she would pass on into eternity without him, never to love another and forced to accept the fact that he would eventually find another and die, or to become mortal and die with him after only a few short years of happiness, with all her family lost and gone across the sea.

I felt a great wave of pity for this man.

And suddenly my own problems did not seem so great.

"Aragorn, you told her to leave, didn't you?" I asked him.

He nodded.

"I think that that was the worst thing you could have done. You could have lied to her, told her you that you had lost your feelings for her. She could have believed you, for you are mortal, and mortal hearts are swift and faltering. Lying would have been a gentler course. Even pleading for her to stay with you would have been kinder to her. But instead, you have broken both your hearts, and even if she turns back now she will be faced with the pain of disobeying you.

"If your last request to her was to abandon you, then how will she ever be able to trust her heart again?"

Aragorn looked at me, and tears suddenly welled in the corners of his regal eyes.

"You are right," he said, and he looked away in the setting sun, his face looking more weathered than ever.

"Have faith, Aragorn. Even if what I say is true-and be warned, I clearly know little when it comes to the ways of the heart,-then I think she will love you yet. I think she will come back to you before the end,"

Aragorn looked back at me. To see such a mighty man at the edge of falling to shambles before me was a wrenching experience. But I knew from recent experience that love was more powerful than strength or birth rights. Even the mightiest man could not contest the power of one's heart.

He nodded once, pressed a hand to his heart, and stood, offering me a hand. I took it and brought myself up clumsily on one foot.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked warily.

With a nod, Aragorn said, "Last I saw him, he had taken a walk,"

My eyes fell.

"Have faith, Calahdra. Let him walk off his feelings. In the meanwhile, join us for dinner,"

I nodded once more and took his arm. Together, we made it to the fire outside his tent. Gimli, Eowyn, and Mithrandir were already there. It was clear that rumors of our spat had already reached their ears, for they said nothing of Legolas or his absence throughout supper.

After a relatively quiet meal, Aragorn helped me back to my tent. It was empty, which brought with it a landslide of emotions, including both remorse and relief.

I dressed myself for sleep and slid within the single bedroll long before sleep usually claimed me. But I found peace in the warmth of the fur and linen. I pressed my head into the folds of the material, breathing in the smell of horse and wood smoke and sunshine. All of these scents were a comfort to me.

For a while, I let my mind wander around anything other than Legolas. I replayed the day's events in my mind, all up to our fight. I tried to figure out what I could have done to calm Meleare, and how I could have dealt with the situation better. This was a game I often played with myself, being introspective and self-critical about the events of a day. It helped me fall asleep, I had found.

The moment the tent flap was pulled aside, I was torn from my reverie and I sat bolt upwards, the knife I had hidden beneath my pillow in my hand.

"Calahdra, it is I," Legolas said, and I lowered my weapon. He stooped, tied the tent closed, and came to kneel beside me. There was a glimmer of remorse in his eyes, as well as a sadness I could not identify. I placed my knife back beneath my pillow.

"Are you well?" he asked, his hands clasped on his knees.

I nodded, saying nothing.

He appraised me for a few moments, staring at me with his brilliant eyes. It seemed that words did not contain the emotions that we felt, and so the tent remained eerily silent, our lips unmoving as we sized each other up.

Eventually he sighed and placed a hand on my brow. "I am going to go sit by the fire,"

I gave him a blank look and nodded once.

In his absence, the sun set, casting shadows all about me. Sleep came to me grudgingly, and it was late when Legolas came to bed as well. He was quite graceful in his attempt to join me with out awaking me, but even in sleep his presence caused my pulse to skyrocket, and I awoke just long enough to feel him wrap his arms around me and bury his face in my hair. I smiled, but his words still chafed against my heart.

Even the after-waves of anger and unrest could not keep me from loving him.

I dreamed of happier days that night.


	14. Chapter 14: Ambush

The day dawned clear and warm, but I feared it nonetheless. I could feel a fell evil on the wind, and my senses were at there peek at once.

I rolled over to find Legolas awake, staring at me, unblinking. I bit my lip, and looked up into his lashes.

"Quel Amrun," I said.

"Quel Amrun," he said back, politely.

But for all our manners, the tension in the air cleaved to us like the dew on the grass ouside.

Our fight was still sorely visible in my mind's eye. And it hurt me just as badly as it had the day before.

We dressed, ate, repacked, and mounted up all in silence. But it was not the companionable silence I was used to. It was uncomfortable and tight, like a wool sweater that had not yet been broken in.

The only improvement from yesterday was that the pain in my leg was nearly gone. It was sore still, but not unbearable, and quite stiff. I still walked with a prominent limp, but otherwise, it was healing well. Meleare's health had improved as well, and Vivendi declared her fit for riding.

The morning passed on into afternoon, and the halt for lunch was called. Legolas and I joined the others, enjoying bread and dried meat supplied by the kitchens. The meal was quiet, however, and it pained me to see that Legolas and I had caused so much unrest.

After lunch, Legolas and Gimli spoke for a long while. I did not join or listen in on their conversation and instead was content to watch those walking about me as I usually did.

An hour or so passed when I familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

"Dearest, how many times must I tell you that horses are too wild for a young lady?"

"Marma!" I said, though a bit reproachfully. She was traveling with a family I knew well, and she looked like a true traveler with her dirty cloak and ragged pack. I smiled at her.

"So that's the boy?" she asked quietly, stealing a glance at Legolas. Only Marma had the guile or humor to call an elf a boy.

I nodded.

"He's fair indeed, but he looks dangerous,"

"He is a warrior, and a great archer from Mirkwood. I would expect him to," I said.

Marma and I talked for a while, and she caught me up on the news of city folk I knew. Much of it was tales of deaths or illness, although she had one bright bit of news.

"Elian Harckwine, Brial's wife had her baby! A lively little boy, with eyes the color of warm honey. They named him Brigal, after his great-grand uncle," she said. I told her to send my congratulations to the newlywed couple, truly happy for such news in such grey times.

Eventually, Marma left me to gossip with someone else, and I was left to my thoughts on the comings and goings of city folk.

Legolas walked beside me, his hand resting on my injured calf. Meleare walked dejectedly, following the tail in front of her. She was clearly still dismayed about the accident the day before. I gave her ear a reassuring pat every once and a while. I was not angry with her in the least anymore. I too would have panicked if bitten by a snake.

In front of us, Gimli rode Arod with Eowyn at his side. Whatever he was saying was causing her to laugh, which a much a shock to my ears as it was to anyone else's.

Aragorn walked along side Legolas, leading Hasufel. The talked quietly for some time before Aragorn mounted and rode on to Theoden, having been summoned by one of Theoden's guard. Gimli then proceeded to spur Arod into a gallop and he fell a few yards later with a hearty yell. Eowyn laughed in surprise and ran to him.

I looked down at Legolas, expecting him to go to his friend, but he stayed at my side, his eyes unfocused and pensive and his face stony.

"Legolas?" I asked softly, afraid as I had been this morning.

He looked up at me and I saw the shards of pain still in his eyes. "Yes?" he asked, his voice as timid as mine.

His tone surprised me. I certainly did not think myself to be as terrifying as he. And yet he looked up at me like a child might look up at a parent after a spanking; full of trepidation and fear, yet with respect as well.

If one of us did not attempt to ford this hollow between us, I was afraid that that look might become permanently embedded in his eyes.

"May I apologize?"

He looked at me with bewilderment. "Calahdra, I should be apologizing to you," he said, shaking his head. "I should never those things to you. And you were right; I was asking you to deny your very nature simply to abate my fears. I'm not sure I could have been any more selfish,"

I raised my eyebrows at him, impressed yet confounded by his lopsided admission.

"But I was the one who called you a pig," I muttered weakly.

"So? I was, Cal. An awful, selfish, cowardly pig who was acting in fear. Please forgive me,"

I looked at him for a long time, and then, understanding then that sometimes peace is more important than power, I nodded. Even if he would not accept my own apology, which I believed was deserved, I would accept his own with grace.

But beyond apologies and politics, I simply wished for the rift between us to be merged. I certainly could have argued further, but I knew that that would most likely only burn the few bridges I had left. It was worth it to hold my tongue.

"I forgive you, meleth nin. And I apologize for my words as well, whether you wish me to or not,"

Legolas smiled sadly at me and took my hand in his. "There is nothing to forgive,"

At that time, a soldier stopped before us. "My lady, Theoden King wishes for your counsel,"

I gave him a curt nod and looked down at Legolas. I offered him an arm and he mounted up behind me.

"How's the leg?" he asked as I urged Meleare into a trot.

"Better. It still stings, but I see that as a well deserved punishment,"

"Love, it was an accident. If you are in pain, then let me see to it. You do not deserve further suffering," he added the last line with a dose of guilt. I clenched my jaw at the sound of it, wishing very much to end his inner anguish. So we had fought, and he had had his part in it. But he was forgiven and I loved him. What more could he ask for?

But I ignored my frustration and pressed on, now nearing Theoden and his escort.

"I'm alright," I whispered, and I drew up alongside Snowmane.

"My Lord," I said as Meleare matched the sinewy stallion's gait. They touched noses and huffed in greeting, but then returned to their stately march.

"Thank you for coming, Calahdra. I have need of your aide," he explained, looking briefly at Legolas' hold on my waist, and then to the bandage on my calf. He must have been informed of both tales, for he asked no questions.

"I am able for whatever it may be," I responded, eager to serve.

"Good. I need you to take the place of one of our scouts. One returned quite ill and I have no others to spare,"

I felt Legolas' hands tighten about my middle. Theoden must have noticed as well.

"You may go with her, Master Elf, if it would better suit you. Your elf eyes would certainly be of great advantage,"

Legolas' grip lightened slightly, and he straightened behind me. "I will go,"

"Where am I needed, my liege?"

"A quarter mile northeast of the head of our party,"

"Very well, my lord,"

I saluted him formally, and then fell back. As I pulled Meleare out of rank, I saw the impressed looks on the faces of many of the nearby soldiers. The sight made me swell with a sort of childish pride.

I stopped beside a cliff face and asked Legolas to help me dismount. Attempting to keep as much weight as possible off of my leg, I pulled on my outer armor, laced daggers about my wrists, and pinned my hair up into a high horsetail. Finally, I swung my bow and quiver onto my back and buckled my sword to my waist.

Legolas gave me a leg up and joined me on Meleare once more. Before I could urge Mel forward, Legolas leaned forward and kissed my hair.

"Like the first ray of sun on the White Mountains in the morning," he murmured in elvish, "A single bolt of flame and light, as mesmerizing as the sun itself, yet as dangerous as a bolt of lightening, piercing through the snow and ice,"

I sighed in time with his poetic words, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. I knew that I really should be going, yet his delightful pampering was too fantastic to refuse.

Eventually, however, I gained enough composure to straighten and take up Meleare's reigns.

"Of course I do. I am a Shieldmaiden of Rohan," I laughed. I turned to him one last time and cupped his face in a gloved hand. I kissed him slowly, savoring the taste of his rough mouth, before pulling away with a pucker of my lips.

"Landra calare, min heorte," (All my love, my heart), I murmured. He looked at me with confusion and I smiled triumphantly as I realized why.

"For once I have bested you at something!"

"What did you say?"

"I said, "All my love, my heart," in Rohirric,"

He smiled at me playfully. "Congratulations,"

"You see, I was under the impression that as an elf princling, you were obligated to be all-knowing as well as all–powerful. Something as plain as a language certainly should not be beyond your grasp, should it?"

"A few things can slip through the cracks," he admitted, and he gave me a kind squeeze. "Now go on love, you have a job to do,"

Feeling prideful, I set Meleare into a gallop and rode out to the spot Theoden had specified. A few moments passed as we walked on, both Legolas and I silent as we surveyed the hills before us.

Legolas disappeared from behind me with unfathomable speed.

"Calahdra, go back! You must tell Theoden that we are under attack!" He yelled at me as he scaled the rocky hill in front of us. A steely panic gripped my heart.

"By what?" I heard myself call, all though the words sounded like a whisper. I was not sure why I had asked the question, for I already knew the answer. Only one of Saruman's evils had the agility to reach us so quickly.

"The wolves of Isengard,"

We had said the words at the same time.

I closed my eyes for but a moment as the memories came back.

"Cal! GO!" Legolas called, drawing his bow. I turned face at once, and Meleare and I barreled back to Theoden. just as we neared, Hama and Gamling rode forward.

"What is it?" I heard Gamling ask Hama just as I opened my mouth to call alarm.

But both our sounds were cut short as a dark, snarling form fell upon Hama.

Gamling's horse reared with a haunting whinny, but the equine's terror could not cover Hama's final scream, which was cut short as the foul warg ripped open his throat.

Legolas raced forward and shot the creature in the heart. Gamling smote it's rider in the chest.

Legolas kicked the orc over. "A scout!" he called.

I pulled a trembling Meleare around once again, and rode to Theoden's guard.

"We are under attack! A battalion of wargs are but a quarter mile from here," I told him, my chest heaving with adrenaline. A host of screams and cries were my answer.

"Take up the left guard. Await my command with your forces at the crown of the hill," he told me, his own battle senses kicking in.

"Yes, my lord,"

As I left, he spoke to Eowyn, instructing her to lead the women and children to Helm's Deep without him. She protested, insuring him that she could fight, but he denied her any chance at battle. I could feel her eyes boring jealously into my back.

I raced up the rocky moor, and mustered the forces that had been under the command of Hama. The men seemed confused about my sudden authority, and so I rode out in front of them, turned about to face them, and stared each one of them in the eyes.

"Aim for their hearts and their heads," I called, "And show them no mercy. These fell beasts destroyed our people, burned our fields, and killed our herds and flocks. Kill them now and leave no survivors!"

The men let out cheers of anger and I knew my words had served their purpose. I turned face and surveyed the valley and opposing hill side before us.

I spied Legolas atop a crest nearby, perched gracefully with his bow drawn and his back erect. As a single warg charged over the hill, he let and arrow fly and the warg and rider fell. He then raced backwards and swung himself up and over the neck of a charging Arod. I gasped with amazement at his skill, but adrenaline hit me a moment later. I waited for Theoden's charge, and Meleare and I backed up so that I sat just before the line of soldiers behind me.

Theoden and Gamling's forces neared from behind and the call went up to draw arms.

I drew out Mearling, watching its single diamond glitter in the sun. My longsword had been my father's, given to me when he had fallen. It was a bittersweet gift.

The last time he had wielded it, a warg had ravaged his body and his steed. My father had survived, but he had not yet woken from the coma his injuries had resulted in. He had slept in a lifeless slumber for three months now, cared for and fed by my mother.

My fate would not be his.

"Charge!" Theoden called out from behind me, and Meleare thundered forward.

A thousand hoof beats echoed over the valley, and the cries and calls of men tore through the avalanche of fear pounding down upon the ground. The minds and souls of every man and horse in that valley were one. And even when a great wave of wargs and orcs appeared before us, our purpose was sure. Nothing could break our relentless focus now.

The first warg flew at me blindly, and my sword hewed cleanly through its neck. I twisted in my saddle to stab its rider. Meleare screamed as another warg leapt towards her. Lunging over my mare's neck, I stabbed the wolf through the eye and moved on upon finding it rider-less.

About me, the battle was fierce. We were evenly matched as far as fighters went, but the wargs were ruthless and their rider's cruel. They did not fight to the death. Instead, they merely sought to incapacitate as many of our soldiers as possible. Many of our men and their horses lay armless or legless on the ground.

The battle continued on and I killed seven more wargs. My mind by then had gone into a sort of monotonous state of destruction, and the sounds and sights of war were drowned out by the constant pulse of adrenaline in my head.

My senses were at their peak until two wargs lunged for me at once, one from the front and the other from the left. My mind acted in panic, and I pulled Meleare to the right in a tight rear before falling to the ground. The first warg ran beside me and I slashed out its tendons in reflex. It fell with a howl, crumpled and bleeding.

The second, however, leapt over Meleare, raking its claws against her haunches, and then landed not two feet from me. Blood and spit were blown from it's nostrils as it growled at me, and I gagged from the putrid smell of its breath. It lunged with a sharp kick from it's rider. I rolled to the side in a last effort to escape.

Thankfully, it landed beside me, but I had rolled straight onto a discarded cleaver, which broke through my leather jerkin and shoulder braces and embedded itself just beneath my collar.

I screamed out in pain and frustration. Meleare spun at once, kicking out at the creature with deadly accuracy. It fell at once, and Meleare trampled it's rider with a triumphant whinny.

Mel stood over me as horses were trained to do when their riders fell. She snuffled at my matted hair and I patted her foreleg, grateful for her presence.

"Good girl," I managed before pulling the weapon from my chest. My cry was cut short as my vision went black and my body limp. Meleare snorted in fear as she sensed my consciousness dim in and out. But I sat up at once, well aware that the more time I spent on the ground, the better the chances of being found and killed were.

Surveying the injury I was relieved to find that it was neither deep nor serious, but it worried and pained me nonetheless.

With a groan, I stood, pushing Meleare aside with a hand on her belly. She seemed reluctant to move, and I could tell that she felt I was safer beneath her than atop her. I smiled a little, but my grin turned to a frown as I noticed her bleeding back. It too was not serious, but I still hated to think that she had earned such an injury protecting me.

She must have sensed the tambour of my thoughts, for she broke in to my tiring mind. _"You have been injured protecting me, meleth. Why should our partnership not be equal? Our love for each other is shared, is it not?" _

I gave her a reluctant mental nod, and mounted up. Pressing her forward, I snatched a spear out of the chest of a fallen orc.

I looked about at the dimming battle. The wargs were losing badly, and the few left were rallying in ill-matched pockets about the hillside. Eyeing a limping wolf preying upon an injured, horseless soldier, I launched my spear and hit my mark squarely.

Turning Meleare once more, I looked for Theoden. He was giving instructions near a cliff on which Legolas and Gimli were standing. Both were leaning over a dying orc.

I spurred Meleare into a gentle canter, well aware of both our injuries. Halfway to Legolas, I heard a soldier moan.

"My lady, please...please help me,"

I would not have stopped had it not been for the fact that the boy could not have been more then thirteen. Clearly he had joined the Rohirrim at the last moment, abandoning the march to Helm's Deep, for he was unarmored and hardly armed.

I dismounted and went to the bleeding youth. The gash in his stomach would surely kill him, but I would offer him what comfort I could before he passed on.

Kneeling before him, he met my eyes. "Thank you," he whispered weakly.

"You have fought bravely, lad. Be at peace," I murmured, once in Rohirric and once in Elvish. I stroked his limp, bloodied hair with half-hearted compassion.

The boy nodded once, and is head fell to his chest as the light left his eyes.

I stood and took a wavering breath. Death wore on me for but a moment before I turned and took Meleare's bridle in my gloved hand. I limped to my King while murmuring to my mare.

"You are so brave, Meleare. So courageous. You beautiful, beautiful girl. I am so proud of you," I spoke in elvish to her and her pulse quieted after a time, as did mine.

"Calahdra," Theoden greeted me, coming to me abroad Snowmane. "You are injured," he pointed out, sounding relatively appalled.

"Not badly, my lord," I said, trying to keep Legolas at bay. He raced to me anyways, his elf ears having picked up my muttered response thirty yards away.

I saw then a desolate grief within his eyes, as well as a panic that arose at the sight of my wound. He appeared unscathed beyond the haunted look he wore, but I could not help but run my eyes over him possessively anyways.

He placed a hand over mine, which lay over the wound, trying to conceal it from him. "It isn't deep," I explained, "just broad." But he pulled my hand back anyways and examined the cut with his finger.

"You're right, but it still needs tending too," he said. His voice was flat and lifeless. I looked up at him with concern, deeply troubled by his lack of animation. He avoided my gaze, however, and looked to Theoden for approval. My lord nodded and continued on.

Legolas attempted to tug me forward, but I caught his chin in my blood stained fingertips and forced his eyes to meet mine.

"Are you well?" I asked, delving deep into his soul with both my eyes and my power. I attempted to interpret the grief and darkness there, but Legolas kept it well hidden. He did not speak or protest as I did this, though, and eventually he let the wall around his emotions fall.

"Aragorn," he breathed, and a single tear rolled down his muddy cheek. His eyes shut as he spoke his friend's name, and his forehead collapsed onto mine.

"He fell," he whispered.

My heart cracked as I processed his words. Aragorn was perhaps the mightiest mortal I had ever met, and his soul had been pure and kind. If one such as he could fall, then was there hope for the rest of us?

I would have rather stood there forever, waiting for the wind or the rain to knock me over. My body and mind did not wish to move, nor did I feel as though I could. But I could feel the gazes of many resting on us, including that of Theoden.

"Come, love. We must go," I said to him gently.

Legolas backed away and inch or so, and with sudden ferocity, he pressed his mouth to mine. I kissed him back, pouring what comfort I could into his mouth. But our kiss was brief and passionless, for both our pains were still raw.

As our remaining forces were mustered, Theoden allowed a few moments to tend to those with only minor injuries. The dead and all others were left for the carrion birds.

Legolas somehow managed to conjure an assortment of bandages and poultices. He bade me allow him to attend to my wound. I agreed and we found some cover besides an outcropping of stone. Meleare and Gimli, who were both uncharacteristically quiet and forlorn, stood watch.

I helped Legolas pull my leather vest over my head and my ruined under-tunic as well. My corset, which revealed copious amounts of skin despite having been tailored specifically for the purpose of battle, was repairable, as were my gauntlets and bracers. The lacing to my shoulder armor, however, had been cut clean through.

"It saddens me to see such well made armor laid to waste," I said to Legolas, attempting not only to change the direction of his thoughts but also to vent some of my sadness for the loss of my expensive armor.

Legolas wetted a bandage and retrieved a few herbs from his pack before responding.

"I will replace it Calahdra. Your safety is one of my foremost concerns. And no protesting," he added, as I opened my mouth. "It will be my gift to you,"

I gave him a weighted look, but decided to heed his request. I realized too that the repairs necessary would be quite costly, and an Elf prince was in a much better position to purchase such things than I ever would be. My coiffures were rarely even halfway full, for although most of my living expenses were paid for, maintaining my second-hand wardrobe, Meleare's health, and paying alms to Edoras' healing ward, my measly allowance from my mother did not go far.

"This will sting," he muttered as he pressed a rag stained with a yellowish substance to my wound. I hissed at once, and Legolas looked up at me, amused.

"Not so tough when it comes to healings, are you?" he asked, a little more lightheartedly.

I gave him a sarcastic smile, once again to proud to admit that he was right. I truly was a chicken when it came to healers. I simply did not care for people fondling me and spreading me with ill-smelling liquids and stinging herbs.

Legolas cleaned and bandaged the wound quickly, and then leaned in to kiss his work. I breathed in the smell of his hair, comforted by the scents of lemongrass and sweat. When he brought his head up, I frowned unconsciously. But seeing his eyes dim at the sight, I caught his face and laid my lips on his brow.

"My heart aches for Aragorn, meleth. Know that your grief is shared, for he was a kingly man and I cared for him greatly," I said, letting my voice lower into a soothing, sensual tone. "I am here for you, Legolas,"

His eyes softened a little, and he kissed my nose. "Thank you, min heorte,"

I smiled at his attempt at Rohirric. His elvish accent skewed the words, but the affect was the same.

Legolas stripped away his over tunic and gave it to me. I rolled up the sleeves and tucked in the tails. My cloak, which had survived the battle, went about my shoulders, and I pulled my hair up once more. Legolas took a new rag and scrubbed the blood and dirt from my face. I returned the deed and washed his as well.

I took a moment to appraise Meleare. Legolas put a hand on her bridle and spoke to her softly as I scrubbed out her wounds with the same ointment used on my wound. Meleare stiffened a little, and her skin twitched in irritation, but Legolas' comforting words kept her calm.

I mounted Meleare and Legolas joined Gimli.

"Hasufel?" I asked.

"No sign of him," Gimli said, his voice hoarse and cracked. It broke my heart to hear the pain in the stout dwarf's voice.

Legolas mounted up behind Gimli and we joined the column of soldiers headed west.

I knew as well as they that what had arisen in the hills was but a taste of the war upon us.


	15. Chapter 15: Play

A/N: Hey there! Thanks as alwyas for reading and reviewing! Just a warning: this chapter contains sensualtiy and nudity. Nothing to graphic: just romance gone lusty :).

* * *

We reached Helm's Deep three or so hours later, and as we climbed the great stone Causeway, I watched Legolas and Gimli's eyes widen with wonder.

The looks in their eyes mirrored my own the first time I had beheld Rohan's great fortress. I had been quite young, and had tagged along with my father on one of his military escapades through the countryside. I remember having clung to my mother's dress, seated before her on her steed, and then turning as my father patted my arm. Before me had stood the great fort of Helm Hammerhand, tucked away into a fold of the mountains and overseeing the Snowbourne and its estuaries. Ever had it been the stronghold of Rohan, protecting our people in times of famine, plague, and war.

I was much larger now, and several visits had lessened my wonder. Helm's Deep, as impressive a monolith as it may be, was also a cage. It was the final grave of so many of my ancestors, and no cheer could arise from that thought.

I could tell now that it was packed to the core, for the cacophony of five thousand bodies rose up from the fortress like a fume. I remembered then a bit of gossip I heard from several general exiting Meduseld: that those of the Westfold had fled to Helm's Deep when the enemy was upon them. So many of their people had died, though, and the loss was sure to be in the ten thousands.

Our party cantered inside, and once within the walls we dismounted our weary steeds and handed them to grooms and stable boys.

I slung my packs, all of which having miraculously survived the fight, onto my back and beckoned for Legolas to follow me. As we turned up a stair towards the Keep, I caught sight of Eowyn's face as she stood before Gimli. She asked him a question, and as he answered, I watched her world shatter.

The sight of seeing someone's future wilt in a single word was not one easily forgotten, and I feared that the sudden emptiness in her eyes would forever be engraved in my heart. Her adoration of Aragorn had been clear from the start, and now that he was dead, her chance at life and love was lost.

Legolas placed a hand on my back an urged me forward. I led him on, and passing through the hornburg and into the Keep, I sought out one of the small, stone antechambers reserved specifically for those of my rank. Inside were a single cot and a small desk and chair.

We unpacked our things in silence, both exhausted by the events of the day. When we finished, I unsheathed my lyre and sat upon the bed. This caught Legolas' attention at once.

I knew that he needed cheering up, and so I played the most heartwarming tune I knew. It was a ballad of two lovers lost in a cornfield who found there way back to each other through song. The twist, however, was that neither could sing well at all. The affect was instantaneous, for Legolas smiled throughout the song and even laughed at the most comical parts.

When I finished, he applauded and kissed my cheek. "That was well played, Airiel. And you have a fantastic voice," he added, with some surprise.

"You did not think I would?"

"I was not under the impression that you cared to sing," he told me.

I gave him a smile. "No, I don't seem like the singing type, do I?"

Legolas smiled back. "Well, I certainly know better now,"

Legolas joined me on the bed, his shoulder touching mine. "May I?" he asked, motioning to my lyre. I nodded and passed it to him. Legolas ran his fingers over the strings a few times, picking out several chords.

"Can you play?" I asked him.

"Not well," he said, quietly, and I could tell that his thoughts had returned to Aragorn.

Gently, I draped my arm around his shoulders and leaned against him, pressing my nose into the hollow behind his jaw.

"Meleth, tell me what you are thinking," I said to him, desperate to understand the depth of his despondency.

"I...I am not so sure he is dead, Airiel. Part of me feels that he still lives. I feel that if he was truly dead, than I would not doubt my feelings of loss, for I loved him like a brother. And yet...I do doubt my feelings..." He spoke hesitantly, but with certainty.

"Do you think he will return?" I asked. I trusted Legolas enough that I did not doubt his instincts.

"Surely," he answered, a smile on his lips. He leaned in for a kiss, and I provided it.

What little time remained of the day seemed well suited for a much needed bath. I mentioned this to Legolas, and he agreed wholeheartedly.

I led Legolas through the teaming bowels of the fortress into one of the secluded hot springs reserved for military officials.

"Is this a unisex spring?" he asked a little nervously. I understood the reason for the gentle waver behind his voice. He was still worried about over-stepping his bounds.

"Yes," I said gently.

I could make out the slight narrowing of his eyes even in the dim light of the empty springs.

The hot springs themselves were situated beneath low outcroppings of rock. Each of the three pools was only about five feet at the most, and seats had been hewn around the edges. I had brought my own soap and bathing oils, but small bottles were available for use in cabinets about the bathing room.

"Calahdra, I'm not sure how you plan to go about doing this...,"

"I plan on bathing like everyone else, Legolas," I said.

I set my collection of bottles next to the edge of the nearest pool and began to unclasp my belt when Legolas' hand caught mine.

"Love...I can't do this. I want you...I want you to be comfortable with this,"

I spun around to face him, prepared to fight the subject. The look in his eyes, however, rendered me speechless.

"Calahdra, I would give almost anything to be with you in that way," he said quietly, motioning to the steaming pools. "But there is one exception,"

I looked at him quizzically, curious about his answer.

"Can you not guess? Do you not know the one thing I could never sacrifice?" he murmured, coming closer to me.

I gave a single shake of my head.

"You,"

The way he said it took my breath away.

I understood then why he had such adamant reservations as far as our more intimate moments were concerned. He would never forgive himself if he lost me because of the way he touched me, for that was certainly one of the least necessary aspects of our relationship.

"Legolas, I'm not so afraid of that anymore. And besides, I wasn't suggesting we partake in...that...at the moment,"

"What were you suggesting, then?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked sensually.

I blanched, and feeling sheepish, I lowered my head.

"I wanted to take a bath...," I muttered.

"Are you sure that that was not your only intention?" he asked casually.

Raising my head, I balanced Legolas' face in my hands and looked him seriously in the eye.

"It was,"

Legolas nodded once, and stepped away. He quickly pulled his tunic up over his head, unlaced his boots, and he then turned to the nearest pool and stepped in.

I took a little more time discarding my clothing. I kept both my tunic and under breeches on and unwound my hair from the bun atop my head. I sat cross legged next to the lip of the hot spring and unwound the bandage from my leg. Legolas waded to me and ran a finger around the scab that had formed.

"How does it feel?"

"Alright. It seems to be healing well," I said, looking at it pensively.

"Good. Now come here," he said. He wrapped his arms around my waist and tossed me unceremoniously into the water, ignoring my squeals.

"That wasn't fair at all!" I accused when I resurfaced.

"Who said anything abut playing fair?" he parried, and then came at me in a crouch, his arms spread wide as if to catch me.

I gave him a sinister smile and crouched as well, prepared to show him just how much of a threat I could be.

I dove when he was only three feet from me, but I lunged to the side, twisted around, and caught him around the middle as soon as he popped back up. With a laugh, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He yelled in protest, and would have bucked me off if it wasn't for the spasms of laughter that were causing him to double over. I jumped down, but kept my arms around his shoulders. He secured an arm around my waist and I laughed with him until he was calm enough to stand up straight.

"Ahh, you're quick lirimaer. But not that quick!"

With a jerk of his arms, he sent me sprawling into the water before us. I came back up for air at once, and with a wink, I dove again. I reached out for his legs, and upon finding them, I gave his ankle a sharp tug. He stumbled into the water and I resurfaced in time to see a bewildered look on his stunning face.

When he came back up, he crawled back to the ledge and sat in it, still smiling at me. I swam to him slowly and sat next to him, laying my head on his shoulder.

"Mmmm...," he murmured, and he gave my hair a soft kiss. "This is lovely, Aieriel,"

"I agree," I sighed.

I reached back and gripped my bottles of soap. I began to lather my hair and Legolas did the same, except he used his own small vial of oil.

"It has been far too long since I had a proper bath," he said, lathering is hair in a sweet smelling liquid.

"And how long is since you've had a proper bath with a woman?"

Legolas grinned. "Far, far too long,"

I smiled back, feeling quite tingly all over. It never ceased to amaze me how the simple things he did, like murmuring a few words or smiling for a few moments, could make me feel like I had had much too much wine.

I ducked under the water to rinse out my hair, but also to hide my increasing blush. When I reemerged, Legolas was staring at me peculiarly.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling unsteady once more.

Legolas neared me and took my hand in his, brushing a bit of lank hair from my face with the other. "You have no notion of how beautiful you are, do you?"

I licked my lips nervously. "I know I'm beautiful enough to capture the interest of a prince,"

"To have simply captures my interest would not have been enough to capture my heart, meleth nin," he murmured, and kissed me sweetly. I kissed him back after a moment of shock.

Without pulling away, he dragged me back to the ledge and sat me on it. Kneeling before me, he continued to kiss me. I leaned forward, and pulled him as close to me as possible. Eventually, however, he pulled away.

"You are tempting me to do things I shouldn't, Calahdra," he warned, looking at me heatedly.

"Don't resist temptation, my love," I said simply.

He gave me a doubtful look.

"Trust me," I purred, "Trust me to be able to stop you,"

He bit his lips and surveyed me. "I am not sure...,"

"Trust me," I murmured again, making my voice silky and sensuous. I leaned forward, looking pointedly at his lips.

He wavered for only a moment, and then he met my lips.

The passionate kissing continued for a while more, and in those moments nothing but the heat and the closeness and the intimacy of this moment could penetrate my thoughts.

Our lust was increasing rapidly, and I could feel myself wanting so much more. The edges of my mind were losing control. But I had to reign myself back in, or I would pay greatly.

I was too late, though, for I could feel Legolas grappling with the same battle and losing.

His hands had trailed at the edge of my tunic, and I could sense what he wanted to do. I opened my eyes, and watched his open in turn. There was a question in his eyes, and to answer it, I embraced his lips with my own one last time. With that, he began to pull my tunic up and over my head. With deliberate slowness and holding my eyes with his the entire time, he finally pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it some ways behind me.

Carefully, he cradled my jaw in his hands and kissed me until the dim world around me spun with colors I didn't know existed. It was his way of saying "I love you," without spoiling the blessed silence with words.

When he finally looked down, his mouth opened a little, and a small gasp escaped. For a moment, I was stunned at my self for allowing this to happen, but the astonishment passed and was replaced with warmth.  
"How could I have ever denied you this?" I asked in elvish.

He looked up at me, and his hands countered his movement, settling around my breasts. Carefully, he bent his head and kissed each one, gently rubbing his thumb around the expanse of each. When he sat straight once more, I smiled. My entire body was shaking, though for what specific reasons, I could not identify.

He ran his hands around my body, occasionally planting a kiss here or there. I sat as still as I could, although every once and a while he would touch me in a way that made me shudder with pleasure. When this happened, he would beam brightly at me, and then return to his inspection of my torso.

When he seemed to have deemed what he had found passable, he put a hand around my waist and tugged me into the water next to him. He spun me around once, and I giggled at the gleam in his eye and the grin on his lips.

"You are perfect," he said after placing me back on my ledge.

"Am I?"

"Without a doubt,"

I smiled meekly as a blush settled on my cheeks.

"Why are you blushing, love? The truth should never embarrass you,"

"Yes, but...he truth, despite being as such, is often hard to believe,"

Legolas placed a firm hand on my cheek and forced me to meet his gaze.

"You asked me to trust you and I consented. I consented because that is what love is, Airiel. Love is to trust a person with your heart, with your soul, with everything you have. Trust me now, Calahdra. Do not deny the truth because of what has been done to you. Trust me with that memory, Calahdra. Trust me to undo what was done to you,"

I looked at him for a long time.

"I have never doubted you, Legolas, nor have I doubted anything you have said to me. But some things cannot be undone. Some hurts cannot be healed, no matter who may try to mend them,"

Legolas looked at me with such sadness that I wished to weep. But behind the tears and the pain in his eyes there was understanding also. Just as he had never lied to me, I was incapable of lying to him. He knew as well as I that we both spoke the truth.

"I wish so badly that I might heal those hurts. But perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is no going back," he said to me, his head cocked to the side in such a way that suggested he would rather not be speaking the words he said, no matter what truths lay behind them.

"For no matter how badly we may wish to erase the yesterday we left behind, there is only tomorrow. There is only what lies ahead,"


	16. Chapter 16: Rendition

I found myself watching the sunset with Legolas. Hand in hand we strolled the length of the Deeping Wall, listening to the sounds of those within the fortress. We were mostly silent, for both of our minds were turned towards war.

In the depths of combat, battle was easy to me. It came naturally, much like breathing. But the hours before, my skin crawled with horror and anguish. Although I was a seasoned warrior and was well versed in the realities of pain and death, there was a part of me still trapped within a semblance of youth and naivety. My heart still ached for those who died in battle, and the thought of what orcs often did to children and woman churned my stomach to the point of illness.

As I looked over those who I was sentenced to protect, those feelings arose. Legolas sensed my grief and wrapped a hand around my waist.

"For all of your tough exterior and bravado, I must remember that there is still a girl inside of you. There is still a very young elleth who craves nature and peace and song," he said, his free hand stroking my face.

I nodded morosely, and looked up at him.

"And that is the woman I am fighting for," I said grimly.

"I fight for her, also," he murmured, and he smiled gently.

And I was at ease.

At the suggestion of Legolas, we went searching for Gimli. We found him exactly where we thought he would be: the mess hall.

As he saw us, his grim face lit into its usual smile, and the sight allowed for a little more warmth within my heart.

"Well met, my friends," Gimli said as we neared. Legolas and I returned his greeting and all three of us sat at the table where the dwarf had been dining.

"Are you enjoying the hospitality of Helm's Deep, master dwarf?" I asked formally. Legolas squeezed my hand beneath the table.

"Very much so, proud warrior. Although, I must say, the lack of fine women in this hall is quite displeasing," he said with a twinkle in his eye and a wink to Legolas.

"Master dwarf, as a Shieldmaiden, I find it prudent to tell you that I am at the liberty to kill whomever I like without question,"

"Very well, I take that back. But I very much doubt that such a pretty thing as yourself would ever wish to trifle with the likes of I," Gimli said.

"You think so, master dwarf? Perhaps we should test that theory. What say you?"

Legolas, who had been silently sobbing in laughter beside me, raised his hand and shook his head.

"Now, now. I really can't allow that,"

Gimli looked genuinely disappointed, whereas I beamed in amusement to no one in particular. After the dwarf turned back to his own food, Legolas straightened his posture and composure.

"Gimli, Estel is not dead," he said. The dwarf quit eating at once, which was surely a feat for him.

"Pardon?" he said, looking up through his tangle of eyebrows.

"I have reason to believe that Aragorn lives," Legolas repeated.

"You...you do not think that he his dead?"

"No,"

Gimli looked dumbfounded for but a moment, and then returned to his food.

"If there is one thing I have learned these past few months," he managed to say through mouthfuls of stew and ale, "it is that elves are the most cunning and deceitful of all creatures that walk this land. You, laddie, and you too, little lady," he said pointing first to Legolas and then to me with a potato-laden spoon, "are the exception,"

Legolas beamed with pride and squeezed my hand. I realized then how odd Legolas and Gimli's relationship was. Dwarves and Elves had long pitted themselves against each other in pointless enmity. These two, having been companions for a while now, had clearly seen past their misconceptions of each other and found something more worthwhile to use as a basis for competition: friendship.

"Now, lass, don't go smiling at anyone but Legolas like that. You don't want anyone with an arrow through their eye for returnin' the favor with somethin' more than a grin," Gimli said to me, the usual twinkle having returned to his eyes.

I harrumphed and smacked his forearm playfully, but heeded his warning. Now that I had Legolas at my side, the soldiers who had once tormented me were sure to either abate their comments entirely or begin there torture anew. I fervently wished for the former, but somehow knew that the latter was a much more prominent outcome.

Feeling morose, Legolas and I went in search of our own supper. As we neared the kitchens, one of the cooks stepped forward.

"Calahdra?" they asked, and I looked up.

It took me a moment to recognize the face, but as my memory caught up to me, a sense of wonder overtook me.

"Eofel?" I asked merrily, quite surprised to see my family's old cook in Helm's Deep.

The man nodded enthusiastically, and rounded the counter at which the food was served at once.

"Oh, my lady," he said, and embraced me. I returned the hug, and smiled wildly. Eofel had been one of my closest friends in Fenmarch, and having known me all my life, he certainly returned my feelings.

When we parted, I turned to Legolas. "Legolas, this is Eofel. He was my family's cook and a great friend of mine," I said, my face still alight with excitement.

"Any friend of Calahdra's is a friend of mine, Eofel," Legolas said, placing his palm out and then over his heart in Elvish salute. Eofel returned the gesture, having learned such customs under the direction of my mother, but looked at Legolas in shock. It was clear that it had been a long time since he had seen many elves.

"Eofel, mellon, tell me how it is that you are here? And what of my Adar and Naneth? How fares your family?" I asked, losing all sense of formality before my old friend.

"Hush, my lady. You haven't changed a bit, have you? As inquisitive as ever, clearly. But give me a moment. Let me see if I might take leave for a moment, and I will join you. We have much to talk about; there is much I might wish to learn of you, as well,"

I nodded impatiently.

"Here, take what you wish and find a seat. I'll join you as soon as I can," Eofel said, and Legolas and I complied.

"You seem to be in high spirits," Legolas commented.

"Well, as you might imagine, seeing Eofel is quite a shock. He had always been quite kind to me, and I love him dearly. But why he is here and not in Fenmarch is beyond my reckoning. He had been employed by family long enough that I thought him to be indispensible," I explained.

Legolas seemed as confused as I in the matter, and both of us began to eat with very serious expressions on our faces.

A little while later, Eofel joined us.

"There, Calahdra. Now I'm prepared for your interrogation," he said, and I noticed that he had removed his soiled apron.

"Well, the first question is obvious. Why are you here and not in Fenmarch?" I asked, putting down my silverware and turning my full attention to him.

Eofel's expression withered, alarming me as well as Legolas.

"I thought you'd ask that first, although I was hoping you wouldn't. I should have known better, after watching over you for so many years," he said quietly.

He looked up at me and cocked his head. "What I have to tell you certainly isn't the sort of thing you're going to like to hear," he said. "Forgive me, Calahdra. Please, do not think less of me once you've thought on what I have to say,"

I studied Eofel, truly terrified now. What could he have to tell me that was so abhorrent that he would ask for my forgiveness beforehand?

"You know your mother's temper, Calahdra. She does not suffer change well, and when she gets into one of her moods...well," he trailed off, and I nodded, knowing exactly of what he spoke.

"Only a few days after you and your guard party had left for Edoras, she learned that your father's second in command, Aldor, had been given control of the muster of Fenmarch. This of course had no affect on her control as Lady of Fenmarch, but she had always assumed that your father's position would be passed on to Huor,"

"That does not surprise me, considering it is the way of elves," I interjected beginning to understand what direction Eofel's story was taking.

Eofel nodded. "That may be so, and please, take no offense to this, but it is certainly _not _the way of the Rohirrim. As far as military positions are concerned, entitlement is based on experience, not lineage, save those involving members of the royal family, of course.

"You're mother took offense to this, of course. In fact, I have never seen her so livid in my life. She petitioned immediately, sending word to Meduseld as well as to the courts in Fenmarch. She stormed about the manor daily, hissing and cussing. She broke almost every object they came into her reach in anger, and none of us were capable of abating her rage.

"When word returned, the answer was no, and although none of us, "us" being of course your family's servants, were surprised or offended by this, your mother's rage increased at least tenfold.

"She caused such a fuss, that those of the fief and even those in the Fendowns rallied against her. They protested this and petitioned that. Some threatened to withdraw their food tax and alms. Several of the stable boys quit, and both of Huor's groomsmen disappeared from Fenmarch all together.

"Your mother withdrew her petition after a few days of this, hoping that that might qualm the villagers rising malcontent. But it did nothing of the sort. In fact, I daresay it made the situation worse.

"Two nights later, someone set fire to the gardens. The flames were doused quickly, but the very thought of what the arsonist intended catapulted your mother into what I might say was the most terrible of fits I have ever seen. She sent heralds throughout the countryside declaring that all those involved in the coup cease there efforts to undermine her authority and pay alms to her at once. I myself am not sure that she was entirely sane when she declared this, but alas, it was done nevertheless.

"The affect was instantaneous. Letters poured in threatening your mother. Some demanded that she go into exile, others stated that they no longer saw her fit to rule and that they had sent word of her treachery to the high courts in Meduseld. I even caught wind of one threatening to burn the manor to the ground after locking her inside.

"Her fear and mistrust rose to the highest of levels, and she stormed through the manor a final time, this time threatening everyone of us to either pledge our undying fealty or to leave.

Eofel paused, his face flushed and crumpled in misery. My own face was frozen into an expression of terror. I had known my mother to be cold, and sometimes cruel, but I had never thought that she could reach levels of treachery such as these. I felt tears coming to my eyes. How she could treat the people she had ruled, and led, had sheltered with such cruelty, I had no idea.

"Calahdra, please understand me when I say that I have loved your family from the moment I stepped foot in your household. I have watched your brothers as well as you grow up. I watched your father's body carried into the house after his accident. I watched you leave, Calahdra. I saw every moment of your life play out. I had nothing but respect for your entire family before a month or so ago, even when your mother had had one of her average fits. But, I had to leave. It was my duty...it was the only way. I could not stand by as such madness ran rampant among my people,"

I watched Eofel for a while, feeling such sadness that I could have wept was it not for the shock I felt also.

"Erdolliel betrayed us all. Those of the fief and of Fendown had always found her strange, to be guarded, even cold. Many rued her heritage. Those who worked in the manor knew her to be cold, sometimes cruel. But we never thought her capable of such disrespect,"

I shook my head. "Nor did I,"

"You believe my tale?" Eofel asked, surprised.

I placed my hand over his, feeling warmth for him. My mother had driven him from his home, and all that he had known had been left behind. "Of course I do," I told him.

Eofel smiled. "You had your mother's looks, dear one, and that we sometimes feared. But you have your father's heart, and all of the kindness and courage one could possess as well. Though Rohan may evade you on the outside, your heart fits all of Rohan within it," he said in Rohirric.

"So where now are Emmali and the girls?" I asked him. His wife and their three daughters were as dear to me as he was.

"We arrived here a day before those of the Westenment, and so they were able to claim some refuge within the caves,"

"And how was your journey here?"

"I think your question should be rephrased as "How did we make it here in one piece?" Well, Calahdra, I must tell you. Eomer may have been banished, but he has not ceased protecting his people. A band of his men watched over us as we passed through the Eastenmet, but left us when we came near Edoras. We had no trouble from then on, fortunately, but I fear that the families that left after us were not so lucky,"

I looked at him questioningly.

"We have not seen any of them, and we arrived nearly a week ago,"

I looked at my hands lying loosely on the table, which drew themselves up into fists as the meaning of his words assailed me.

Eofel placed a hand on my fist. "Do not look so angry, dear. We left Fenmarch knowing full well that there was not a single place in Rohan that was better protected. With at least half of your father's men stationed there at any given time, we are the safest in all of Rohan!"

"Don't say that too loudly, Eofel. We don't want to start a fight,"

"No...but with you on our side, we're sure to win,"

I smiled, and laughed happily in order to clear the tears from my eyes.

"But tell me of yourself, Calahdra. Much has happened to you, clearly," he said in Westron, looking pointedly at both Legolas and my Shieldmaiden garb.

I smiled lightly, and looked up at Legolas.

"That, my friend, is a very long story,"

After spending an hour or so more with Eofel swapping stories, Legolas and I retired to bed. Theoden had made it clear that he would send for should he need me, so I as able to relax without fear of shirking my duties.

I changed into my usual tunic and leggings and sat at the chair beside me and Legolas' bed, balancing my lyre in my lap. I stroked its strings idly, my thoughts still caught up in Eofel's tale. Legolas stood nearby, admiring me as he combed out his hair.

I thought of my brothers, hoping that they were well despite what my mother had done. Although I did not love them, I had enough compassion for everyone I knew to hope that my brothers were alright. I had always wondered what a true relationship between siblings was like.

"Legolas?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any siblings?" I asked, hoping that he might be able to grant me some insight in to that mysterious topic.

"I do," he responded, settling beside me on the bed. "Would you like me to tell you about them?"

I nodded earnestly, still pulling at a few chords.

"I am the oldest of my siblings, and therefore the heir to my father's realm. I have no brothers, of which I am sometimes glad. But I do have three younger sisters,"

I raised my eyebrows. Somehow, this intrigued me a great deal more than I expected it to. It did explain a lot, though, including Legolas' gentleness and sensitivity. His protectiveness, as well, I thought.

"They are a great deal younger than I, and I dote on them greatly. But do to our differences in age, I find that I have little in common with them, especially the two youngest.

"Miriel and Santiel are the youngest, and only about four hundred years apart. They are playful little girls, always getting into some sort mischief. They enjoy their privileges as princesses very much, although they often complain about the responsibilities,"

"What do they look like?" I asked.

"They have hair much the same color as I, and the same eyes. But they look much more like my father, I think, as far as the rest of their looks are concerned. They are easy to mistake as twins, they are so alike in temperament and appearance.

"Indilwen is the nearest to my age, being only eight hundred years my junior. She is...complicated. As the eldest daughter, she has great responsibility. She takes her position far too seriously, and she is reserved because of it. She is a dark beauty, and she seems almost alien to those who do not know her.

Legolas looked down at his lap, seeming sorrowful. "She has led a hard life, Calahdra, and she sometimes does not wish to live it. Because I am the closest to her I understand her better than anyone else I know of. I have tried with all my might to force some light back into her. But I fear she is lost. I fear she will not return from her reverie.

"That is why I am so wary of you, Calahdra. I see the same darkness, though not as much of it, within you. The same evils that were done to you were done to my sister, and she bears the same amount of shame because of it.

"If I lost her, I would lose much of the joy in my life, for although she is often silent, and seems despondent, there are moments where she is coaxed out of her façade and she acts much the same as you. She has wisdom and a grace that few ellith possess. But her faer fades nonetheless, and it breaks my heart,"

I reached out to him then, taking his hand in mine. I knew then how much pain I was causing him, despite the pleasure he claimed I resulted in.

"To see you go through that very same pain...and to know what it could result in...to have such a clear vision of where the path you could take leads, meleth. It haunts my every thought,"

I breathed deep, and leaned over so that my head rested over his heart. He released my hands for a moment in order to lift me over onto his lap. He placed my lyre on the chair I had occupied, and then laid down with me, still keeping me close to his chest.

"I am sorry, Legolas," I whispered, a little ashamed. I had never meant to hurt him, nor had I thought that my own evils haunted him so.

Our bare feet tangled together, and our hands were trapped and twisted between our chests. Legolas nestled his face into the crown of my head, and I breathed in the scent of the locks of hair lying on his shoulder.

"Amin mella le," I whispered, and he whispered the same sentiment back.

We fell asleep that way, exhausted and worn out in a way no words could describe. All that mattered was that we were together, and no memory of war or the bloodshed to come could rob such a perfect statement from us.


	17. Chapter 17: Fortifications

My father had impressed the importance of knowing how to defend oneself upon me from a very young age. As long as I could remember, I had always been able to wield some sort of weapon, as well as the having ability to ride a horse. In this way, I had been a warrior from a very young age. I had been, in many ways, trained to kill. And as much as my father would have liked to shelter his darling little girl and sequester her away from war and death, he, as Marshall of Fenmarch, knew better than that. His pragmatism eventually saved his life as well as mine countless times.

But the moment my mother had mentioned sending me to Edoras, I had known where my destiny had lied. I had gone on patrol with my father and had travelled with his Muster enough to have seen a vast amount of war. The images of what the Enemy had done to my people were forever engrained in my head, and although I would have anything to have forgotten them, the constant reminder of what my father was fighting for drove me to wish to be involved in the war as well.

A year and a half after the night I had saved my father's life, my father coerced my mother into allowing me to go on patrol with him. The fighting was at a lull, at least for the time being, and his company had been assigned to travel to a stronghold on the Gondorian border and assist with whatever was needed.

When I had been younger, opportunities much like this had occurred often. My father would take me with him for a week or two and then return me to home safe and in one piece. He had always taken Lenwe and Huor with him at my age, and my father, being a man who believed quite deeply in equality, saw no reason why I should not ride with him either.

I had been apprehensive at first, for the memory of the night our camp had been attacked still played out within my head. But I came nonetheless, seeking honor and adventure like any other child my age.

We were attacked by a raiding party of Easterlings within three nights of our journey. I killed many men that night, but I had found it easier. The fact that I had been defending myself, my fellow soldiers, and my country was much easier to comprehend after 18 months of life had passed me by.

My presence caused many of the soldier's to be at deep unease. I was a young lady, of course, and to see me with the same bloodlust and murder in my eyes and in my very soul that they had came as a great shock to them. But they had enough respect for my father to not to question his intentions or mine, and eventually I earned their respect. I was a skilled fighter, no matter how young I was, and my elvish blood gave me qualities that no man possessed. In this way, I bested many of them and they honored me for it.

And from that day forward, I was a dedicated soldier of Rohan. Of course, my mother hated the prospect of me being so skilled in a man's trade, and a deadly one at that. So, in order to appease both my mother and my father, I spent a month at home and a month abroad for the next two years.

But time passed quickly, and as the war intensified exponentially, the world became darker and more menacing. My mother, still having possessed enough love for me that she wished for my safety, sent me to Meduseld, where she thought I might be safer, under the pretense that I was to be a handmaid. I became anything but, refusing to throw away my duty and abilities on her behalf.

And now I was here, standing on the ramparts of Helm's Deep, watching a blood-lit sunrise climb over the expanse of the hazy sky. I could feel battle nearing, and the feeling was like a knife, slowly clawing through the folds of my skin, hacking steadily at my bones, and splitting the very sinew from my flesh.

Legolas was elsewhere, having been summoned by Theoden. I was surprised when the message had arrived telling Legolas to go and not I, but the messenger explained that Theoden wished for me to rest as much as possible due to my still healing injury. I could not rest though, and I ached to be at his side.

Eventually, I gave up, and went back to my quarters. I dressed in my light armor and brought only a few knives. The haunting chill of the battle to come was still quite weak and so I felt relatively at ease with only my slight defenses.

I went then to the Keep, where Theoden's headquarters were. He stood crouched over a table laden with maps and scrolls. He was caught up in a discussion with several generals and advisors, and so I hung back, feeling a little lost. It never ceased to amaze me just how little I was accustomed to my position, and for all of my forced, broken grace, the responsibility of simply knowing where I was supposed to stand was daunting. But he turned just as I paused, and upon seeing me, he nodded. I sighed, feeling at ease.

"I did not think that you would remain idle for long, Calahdra," he said, a small smile coming to his weathered face.

"No, my liege,"

"Well, in that case please see to it that you are fed," he said, gesturing to a small table of cheeses and mead, "and that Snowmane is settled,"

I nodded. I bypassed the food, feeling not at all hungry, and went straight to the stables.

Upon assuring that Snowmane was well bedded in a sound and roomy stall, I entertained him for a while before seeing to Meleare.

_"Ahh, it is good to see you, Calahdra," _she said, snuffling my hair.

_"Likewise," _I said, combing her forelock and stroking her muzzle. I had missed my darling mare greatly, and the sight of her eased my growing nerves.

I left her after a few minutes, suspecting that Theoden may have need of me. When I returned, word had been left to me that I was to see that several of the maps were returned to the scroll room.

When I gathered up the scrolls and placed them into the appropriate hands ten minutes later, Theoden had returned with his advisors and was pouring over the remaining maps once more. I watched their muttered arguing and frantic movements for but a moment when the large doors to the Keep were thrust open and an ill looking man entered.

My heart leapt as I saw Aragorn saunter forward, looking a great deal more careworn and quite injured.

Legolas walked behind him closely, appearing concerned for his friend but also delighted that he had returned.

Theoden went to Aragorn and saluted him.

"How can this be?" my King asked.

"I fell a great distance, but some greater power broke my fall," Aragorn replied, and upon seeing me, only a few yards behind my King, his eyes smiled, and I understood.

"But I have darker news to share, if you will bear it,"

"If it is of the utmost importance, than indeed,"

"So it is," Aragorn said, and a seat as well as water and bread were found for him at once.

"I fell from a great height into the river and was carried some ways from where we were ambushed. But when I awoke, none other than Brego, the late Prince Theodred's steed was beside me. He carried me far by the road the women and children had followed until a great host of orcs and Urukai and other demons of Saruman's command were before us. They marched along the same path we had thought to take, and at the sight of them, Brego carried me here with as much haste as the greatest of horses,"

The shock and terror within the room was so great that one could feel it settling upon their benumbed limbs.

"A great host you say?" Theoden asked, gaining his composure before any of us.

"All of Isengard is emptied,"

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least,"

Gasps reverberated off of the granite walls.

"Ten thousand?" Theoden asked, disbelieving.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall," Aragorn explained.

The silence, though thick, was brief. "Let them come," was Theoden's resolute reply, and with that, the preparations for war began.

In the mess of people and horses and weaponry, I was able to catch from Theoden that I was to see that Aragorn was looked after and then to find him on the ramparts, where he would be overseeing the fortifications.

I led Aragorn to one of the antechambers off of the main hall of the Keep as Legolas brought his kit and a servant fetched food and drink.

As the door closed, I embraced him at once. He held me gently in return, and I could tell that although he was happy to see me, it was also clear that he was in a great deal of pain.

"You were greatly missed, Estel," I told him when I let him go. "You gave us all a right scare,"

"And I am sorry for that, my lady," he said, sadness in is voice, "but I am well, at least for the time being, and of that I am glad,"

"All of us are," I said, and then motioned for him to sit. When a pitcher of water and some cheese and bread arrived, I saw to it that Aragorn had eaten. Legolas soon arrived with a spare change of clothes and his medical kit and I watched as Legolas tended to his old friend. Aragorn's injuries did not appear to be much besides a gash on his forehead and another on his arm until he removed his ruined tunic. A great purple bruise covered much of his chest. I assumed it was from the impact of hitting the water, and it looked extremely painful.

When Legolas had done all he could, I volunteered to return the tray and pitcher, allowing Aragorn to change his clothes. I could also tell the Aragorn wished to speak to Legolas in private, and I knew that Legolas would appreciate my scarcity at least for the time being.

As I neared the kitchens, a group of soldiers, having come from the armory down the way, walked past me. Their mutters stopped abruptly as they walked past me, and I could sense them stop and turn.

"You're the Shieldmaiden, aren't you?" One of them asked in Rohirric, his accent thick with a northern cadence.

I stopped and turned, nodding to one of the three men. "I am,"

The men exchanged surprised glances.

"How long has it been since you took the oath?" The same man asked again, seeming genuinely curious.

"Three months," I said, though cringing internally.

The men exchanged more whispers, and when they looked back at me, I saw respect in their eyes instead of the lust or pity I was accustomed to.

"You are a brave young woman then, to have subjected yourself to such a profession," another one of the men said, and I bowed my head in pride.

"I thank you for that, good sirs," I said, a little embarrassedly. Remembering my manners quire suddenly, I looked back at the men. "Tell me, what are your names?"

The first man to have spoken declared himself to be Garthwine, and the others were Cadern and Gilhirn. I thanked them once more before they left.

When I returned to the antechamber where Aragorn was resting, I found Legolas watching over him from a nearby chair. The careworn man had fallen asleep on the lone cot, and I smiled a little, figuring that he greatly deserved whatever rest he could manage.

Upon seeing me, Legolas reached out and I sat on the chair next to him. He laid his head on my shoulder and I turned to kiss his brow.

"I have never known a more courageous man in all my life," he said quietly, and I nodded in agreement.

"How is he doing?" I asked.

"Well enough. He is in more pain than he would like to admit, and his exhaustion has him worn to the bone. But he made me swear to wake him in an hour,"

"He will not be fit for battle if he does not rest," I said, afraid for our good friend.

"Do you think any of us are?" Legolas asked, taking his head from my breast and looking at me sharply. His tone brought back memories of what had transpired only two nights ago, and I looked away, not wishing to fight with him.

"I am sorry, Calahdra. I hate to raise my tone, especially towards you. But I do not see the hope you do. Though your people are strong and stubborn, they cannot win this fight. Not against ten thousand!" he said.

I stood and left the room, beckoning for him to follow. I had little patience considering how nervous I already was, and as much as I did not wish to fight with him, I feared I would anyways. I figured it would be wise to spare Aragorn the disruption.

"What would you have us do? Up and leave this place? We came here knowing that Saruman's evils would follow. Helm's Deep offers us our best chance at survival!" I said after shutting the door to the chamber.

And then a terrifying assumption arose within me that explained his wishing to speak to Aragorn and his anger now.

"You want to flee," I said quietly, shocked and terrified and furious all at once.

"What?" he asked shocked.

"You could run away right now if you wished and never have to look back. You feel trapped here, convinced that you are going to die, and you'd rather leave while you still have the chance," I said dismally.

"No...No! No, Calahdra, that isn't what I mean...that's not at all...How could you think that?" his question was both one of horror and insult.

"Then what do you mean?" I parried, ignoring his question, "Your words don't change anything. Whether we had come here or not, Saruman still would have attacked, and at least here we have a few more men, a solid fortress, and our people are safe while we defend it! Anywhere else, the women and children would have been raped and killed!"

"And you think that they will not be?" he said, quite nearly shouting. And suddenly a great pain came into his eyes, quieting his bitter voice, "You believe that you won't be? Calahdra, you may be a soldier in the eyes of your people and your customs, but to anyone else, including those of the enemy, you are a girl! You can not possibly believe that a sword and armor and some necklace can protect you any better than you might have been without them!" He said, his voice catching with emotion and fear. His normally calming grey eyes were now alight with passion, but the sort of passion that filled me with an aching dread.

I stood stock still, and stared at him blankly. He had crossed a line he had sworn he would not bridge.

"Your fear blinds you," I said simply, my voice much colder than I intended it to be. I turned face and walked away from him, shaking so hard that my mail sounded similar to rain.

I found Theoden where he said he'd be, and I spent the remainder of the morning and the early afternoon with him, my mind teeming with what had transpired earlier. I pushed the argument out of my head he best I could, for it filled me with shame and sadness and Theoden needed my attention.

I was sent on multiple searches, quests, and retrievals throughout the day, and not once did I see Legolas. At first, I was glad of this, but as time wore on and he remained unseen, I became angry. Although I was quite enamored with him, I still desperately ached for his company. And then I realized that he probably assumed I wanted space. It had, of course, been I that had stormed away. He probably figured that I would find him when I needed to, and no sooner or later than then.

By mid-afternoon, Theoden dismissed me. Aragorn and Gimli had joined him for a final inspection of the fortifications and Legolas was to arrive soon. Theoden gave me a long list of errands and instructed me to rest and prepare my weapons for battle once I had completed his bidding.

As I left, Aragorn placed a firm hand on my shoulder, effectively stopping me.

"Calahdra, whatever you said to Legolas has him in a right temper,"

I looked up at the ranger, and he frowned as he saw the expression on my face.

"I'm sorry," I managed, and I walked on.

I carried out the instructions given to me and returned to my chamber. Lying on the bed, I placed my hands over my eyes, exhausted both mentally and physically.

A knock on the door awoke me from my reverie.

I went to it and opened it, finding Eowyn outside.

"My lady, please come in," I said, a little taken aback.

"Oh no, I'm sure you are trying to rest. All I wanted was to give this to you," she said, handing me a small piece of battered parchment, "I found it in the archives here, and I thought that it might interest you,"

"Thank you, Eowyn, for thinking of me," I said, curious as to the contents of her gift.

"You are very welcome," she said, smiling, and although she looked as tired as the rest of us, the rare sight made her look more beautiful than ever. Just as she looked as though she was turning to leave, she checked herself and placed a hand on my arm, "And Calahdra...I wanted to thank you...to tell you how grateful I am for what you're doing. Rohan needs you Calahdra," she said. I nodded to her, feeling overwhelmed at the amount of admiration I had received today.

When she left, I returned to my bed and unfolded the square of parchment. Inside was a letter written in a bold script. It dated back to about two hundred years ago, and it was a letter from a woman named Katarin to her husband.

_"Dearest Husband,_

This is the first letter I have sent to you since we last saw each other, so many months ago, and I fear that this may be my last for a long while. The King has ordered for our company to move far north and I fear that there will be little chance of sending post where we are going.

That last time we spoke, you said that you did not understand my "obsession" with my duties as a Shieldmaiden. I have thought long and hard on an answer to that question, and finally I have come to a conclusion.

All my life I was trained in the ways of killing. I was born into a world of death and destruction and pain. I struggled to find my way in this world, and I was determined to grasp something greater than the endless carnage that existed around me. But a life created out of such darkness can not easily part from it, and so, as my life wore on, I came to the conclusion that my place was defending the people I loved.

I took up the oaths of a Shieldmaiden not because I had to or chose to, but rather because that was I had been created to do so. I was so sure of my destiny and my purpose that I thought very little about my motives and instead I imagined the life before me.

And as time went by, peace began to settle over our land for a time, and when leave was granted to me, I returned to my home and I found you. You, my love, are the love of my life. Without you I am nothing and with you I feel as though I am everything that is good and green in this world.

We fell in love, as the stories go, and we married. I bore our son and I watched him grow. But a time came when the quiet that our country had finally earned was shattered and I was called away again. And I left not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Because in leaving you, I was protecting you. In parting ways, I was drawing the evil away from you.

I know that you never understood why I left, but I do not think that you need to. In the end, neither one of us had a choice. I had made the decision before I had even met you to leave that day, and you had sworn to love me all my life, no matter what was thrown our way.

You know that I am a strong believer in fate, and this is what I believe fate intended. Both of us have followed our passions, and although we have strayed from each other as a result, we were never truly parted. I love you just as much as the day I swore myself to you, and I know in my heart that you feel the same.

I send this letter because there is a great chance that I may not return. As always, I shall be in the frontlines of battle, ever beside my King. Should the battle go ill, at least I shall die with a smile on my face knowing that you could at least attempt to understand the thoughts that have driven me to where I am today, and that you know that I still love you.

You are my everything, and my forever, and I shall always love you, even when the stars have broken open and all the darkness in the sky has poured forth over this great land.

With all my love,  
You darling wife  
Katarin. 

At the bottom of the note was the read script of a librarian's notes.

_Writer perished only a few days after completion. Found within pack beside body. Returned to Helm's Deep archives. _

I reread the letter twice and tears came to my eyes both times. This letter, although two hundred years my senior, depicted everything I wished to tell Legolas now. How Eowyn had picked now to give this to me was a mystery I could not grasp.

As I sat in astonishment for some time more, I could hear the men outside become increasingly noisy. I could feel their fear like a fine mist.

I rarely used my powers of mind-speak for anything more than speaking with Meleare, but I was genuinely interested in the thoughts running through the head of those outside. And so, clearing my mind of all of the emotions that had run amuck before, I sent my consciousness outside the walls of my bedchamber and grasped at the hall outside. Coming across a man, I probed gently within his mind and found the fear I had expected. But he was also thinking about his daughter, who was being moved to the caves with her four month old child. He worried for her and her husband, who was a soldier that had fled with Lord Eomer after his exile. He missed his wife...she would have known how to comfort him and how to care for Leoni and the baby....

I pulled out of this man's thoughts, feeling exhausted quite suddenly. I had read that invading a person's mind when they were in turmoil would exhaust me more quickly than reading a calm person's, and I certainly felt that now. I had not practiced controlling my powers in a while, and that took a toll on me as well.

I lied down after removing my chain mail and bracers and promised myself that I would only take a short nap. But the moment my head touched the mattress, I could tell that that promise would be added to a list of many. A list of all of the promises I had made to myself and resolutely broken


	18. Chapter 18: Silence

I awoke to the sound of someone rapping on my door with iron-knuckles. I sat bolt upright and went to the door.

Outside was a soldier. "Theoden-king requests your presence. Scouts have returned and say that the enemy is not more than two hours away. He needs your assistance in making the final battle preparations,"

I thanked the man and closed the door. I took a deep breath and went to my packs, retrieving my armor. I would suit up now, then, and the thought set my nerves on fire.

As I bent to retrieve my pack, I noticed a new set of shoulder armor on the chair beside the bed. With the armor was a single, waxy leaf. I smiled tenderly and set the leaf on the bed while I inspected the leather armor. It was well made and appeared as though it would fit. With a deep sigh, I stood, running my hand through my messy hair. Looking at my pack, I grimaced.

I stripped quickly and pulled my battle corset on, having repaired it that morning. After lacing it up and pulling on my pair of black riding leggings, having also been repaired, and my mail. I then pulled my leather vest over top of that, tucking my mithril necklace within and leaving the Shieldmaiden's gem on top, and put my fingerless gloves on. I laced up my greaves and bracers, as well as my knee high boots. Finally, I combed my hair up into a high horsetail and wrapped around it a spiked thong, which served the purpose of discouraging orcs from playing with my pretty hair.

I packed away the rest of my things and placed the by the door, next to Legolas' meticulously packed things. The sight caused my heart to flutter a little.

I dealt with my weapons quickly, wrapping my sword belt around my waist, tucking two daggers into my belt and sheathing Mearling, and then placing a dagger in each boot, up both of my bracers, and two small throwing knives in my corset. I draped my bow and quiver over my right shoulder.

With a final glance over the room, I saw the leaf on the bedspread and went to it. I ran my fingers over its surface and bit my lip sadly. Resolutely, I placed the leaf within my corset, right over my heart, praying desperately that it would stay in place all night long.

I deposited my arrows and quiver alongside the other general's weapons, as well as Mearling upon entering the Keep's main room. Theoden was sitting at the stone chair at the back of the long hall, his head in his hand. I went to him slowly, confused. It was not like Theoden to sit idly while battle began to broil.

"My lord?" I asked, kneeling beside his throne.

He opened his eyes slowly, looking quite weary.

"Ah, Calahdra. It is good to see your face," he said, smiling a little.

"And it is good to see yours as well, sire. Tell me, please, what can I do for you?"

Theoden looked at me for a while, his eyes looking quite sad, I thought.

"There is little that you can do ore for me that you have not already done, good maiden. You have done everything I have asked of you and more, and I have become quite fond of you because of it,"

I smiled, abashed, and looked down at my fingers, which rested on the arm of his chair.

He took my hand in his, which surprised me. "If I knew you would not refuse, I would have you stay in the caves this night, Calahdra. I am not sure I could bare it if you perished this night on my behalf,"

I opened my mouth, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, though, I knew what to say.

"If you asked it of me, I would comply, my lord. I would do whatever you of me,"

"Yet you would not go to the caves if Legolas asked it of you?" he asked me with a sparkle in his eyes, much more like a grandfather than a king.

I looked at him with horror, confused as to how he knew about such a thing. "Legolas is not my king,"

"But if Legolas died this night, would you continue to fight for me?"

"I...I don't know what you mean,"

"Calahdra, if I died, you would continue on, perhaps in sorrow for a while, but you would fight for whomever took my place as King. Whereas if Legolas died, I do not think you would carry on. I think your heart is torn between the two things you love most: your people and the one you love above all else,"

I looked away for a while and then looked back into Theoden's fatherly eyes. "I would perish if he died, my lord. But I would perish after destroying as any of my foes as possible,"

Theoden appraised me once more before standing, bringing me up with him with his had still clasped around mine. "I can understand that, my lady,"

I smiled and bowed my head before him, my fist over my heart in salute. He returned the gesture.

The sound of a horn, clear and brusque, pierced through the dimming night. At once, those who were congregated in the main Keep ran at once the gate. I followed Theoden as we jogged over stairs ad through gateways.

When at last we arrived before the main gate, we watched as a great battalion of hooded archers strode over the causeway and into the hornburg. Their synchronization and sophistication was oddly terrifying, but I recognized them at once. They were elves, and they had come to rescue us.

Many others had not realized this, as well as Theoden, and they looked on in both horror and awe.

One elf, a sturdy looking male with striking gold hair and eyes like a hawk, stepped forward. As he stopped before Theoden, the elves turned and tapped their bows against the ground, their company having fitted within the parade rounds completely. There were five hundred or so of them, but their menacing bows and long, curved knives gave the impression that any one of them was equal to five of our average soldiers.

"How is this possible?" Theoden asked weakly.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," the ellon said, his eyes resting on me for a moment. I saw some confusion in his brown eyes, but his gaze moved on. "An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together,"

I heard footsteps echoes behind me, but I did not turn. The ellon, though, seemed much intrigued by whoever it was that was nearing. "We come to honor that allegiance,"

Aragorn stepped before him and bowed his head a little clumsily. "Mae govannen, Haldir," he said, and then, looking quite pleased, he embraced the elf. "You are most welcome,"

I raised my eyebrows, but lowered them as Legolas took Aragorn's place, clasping Haldir on the shoulder.

Haldir turned to Theoden, "We are proud to fight alongside men once more,"

Theoden stepped forward and they clasped shoulders. As the two talked, Legolas beckoned me to him. He looked incredibly imposing in steel shoulder plates and bracers, and I felt even more nervous as I approached.

We stood before each other in moot silence for a moment, and then, giving in, I embraced him. He held me desperately, his hands clutching at my many layers of clothing.

"I'm sorry...," we both began, and then smiled at each other.

"Ú-moe edhored, meleth nin," (There is nothing to forgive, my love) I said quietly.

Legolas shook his head, "Law, lirimaer. Goheno nin," (No, lovely one. Forgive me.)

I shook my head, and feeling brave, I reached up and kissed him soundly.

He smiled when I pulled back, and he looked towards the ranks of elves now mingling about the courtyard. Although they were trained not to show fear, I knew better than to think them unafraid. "I wonder what they will think,"

"What of?" I asked him, tracing the bridge of his nose with my fingertip.

"Us," he said simply, shuddering a little as my finger slowly outlined his upper lip.

"Why should you care what they think of us? What claim do they have that entitles them to pass judgment on something that they do not understand?" I said, a little harshly, my murmur turning to a growl. My mother's bitterness had apparently been passed on to me, and although I thought that that was strange, it did not seem unlikely.

Legolas seemed to recognize the source of my spite. He brought his gloved hand to my face, dragging his fingertips over my ear. Mine was not so defined as his, but enough so that it set me apart.

"Their judgments now may be harsh, Calahdra, but you should not so wantonly throw your anger back at them in return. They are, of course, your kin. You may not find them so unlike yourself as you currently believe,"

"And how would you know?" I questioned, my anger having been quelled by Legolas' rational chastisement, but my justifications were in tact.

"I know many of these people. I have met many Lothlorien warriors and know several of them personally,"

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. You do not think that I would neglect my duties as a prince, do you?"

"If neglect means you could go to the archery range, then yes, I think you would," I said playfully, forgetting my bitterness at once.

He smiled, "You know me so well,"

"I wish I knew you better," I said somberly, feeling the fear I had forgotten for a moment rush over me. To lose him this night would be bitter indeed.

He tipped my chin up to look at him, and we shared a moment that no other could penetrate. I felt as though he was staring into my soul, pouring into it everything that he wished for me to know about him. I did the same, and it saddened me to know that he might ever know that my favorite color was lilac, or that my favorite fruit was a green apple. He would ever know the name of my first pony, nor see the scar on my lower back that I earned when I had fallen off of my pony for the first time.

All of the many "nevers" began to break my heart, and my lip quivered as I looked away.

"This night shall not be our last, Calahdra," he said. "For I have not yet had a proper night with you,"

I smiled wickedly, and held his palm to my lips.

"Legolas, man carel le?" (Legolas, what are you doing?)

I looked up to find Haldir looking at the two of us inquisitively.

"Mae govannen, Haldir," Legolas said with a chuckle. He placed an arm around my shoulders and turned me towards the imposing elf.

But swallowing my nervousness, considering the fact that introductions should have been the least of my present worries, I took the initiative and stepped forward, holding my left palm out to him before placing it over my heart.

"Le suilon, Haldir. Calahdra Medlinniel eneth nin," (My greetings, Haldir. My name is Calahdra Medlinniel)

"Medlinniel?" he asked, looking at me strangely, as if he recognized me. "Is your mother Erdolliel Medlinniel?" he asked.

"She is," I responded, our conversation settling in Sindarin. The Rohirric soldiers around us looked at me nervously, but with intrigue instead of fear. "Do you know her?"

"I did," he said, "I did not think that I would ever meet one of her children. I thought that she had disappeared,"

I laughed a little. I felt tight, suddenly, as if I was being swallowed whole. Meeting someone who had known my mother before her self-exile was proving more intimidating than I had thought.

Thankfully, Legolas saved me. "Calahdra and I met in Edoras, and have been inseparable ever since,"

"And you are a Shieldmaiden, Calahdra?" Haldir asked.

"Yes,"

"Well then, Legolas. I would never have guessed for this to happen. An elf prince and a Shieldmaiden. Hmm," he said, shaking his head and chuckling a bit.

"Well, you are clearly happy together, and I've never doubted _your _aim, Legolas, so you have my blessing then,"

Legolas smiled, and I did too.

"How many have come, Haldir?" Legolas asked, his smile fading.

"A little more than five hundred. At first, the Lady contemplated forcing the orders on many of the Galahdrim, but Elrond disagreed. I myself am surprised at how may have come,"

Legolas' lips were set in a thin line, and I could tell that he still did not believe we could win.

Haldir looked to me, ignoring Legolas' subtle pout.  
"How many men are stationed here?"

"We have only three hundred Eorlingas here, and three hundred more men in addition to that,"

Haldir looked as though he understood Legolas pout much better now, and a similar expression settled on his face.

A call went up for soldier to take there positions. My heart did a double take, and I looked to Legolas, panicked.

He held a finger to my lip and then pointed to Haldir, who had bowed his head. Slowly, he began a prayer, and one I knew well.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-díriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, sí nef aearon!  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-díriel, le nallon sí di'-nguruthos! A tíro nin, Fanuilos! A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! Silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath, Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth! We still remember, we who dwell, in this far land beneath the trees, the starlight on the western seas,"

Looking back up at each other, I nodded to Haldir. "Belain na le,"

He returned the sentiment, and then turned to his fighters.

When Haldir left, Legolas took my hands. For what might have been the last time, I looked into his deep, grey-green eyes. When looking within those translucent mirrors, I could quite nearly taste the forests he had grown up in. And even though I was trapped by the iron jaws of stone and the souls of the dead, I knew that this bitter twilight could not last. The after-taste of dusk was cleaving to the dying air, mingling with the ether of the night, and though the stars were veiled, trapped by fog and fear and pain, I was carried somewhere safe, somewhere beautiful, and somewhere sacred simply by staring into his eyes. Within his eyes, the night we had not yet shared was dancing through the woodlands in his mind's eye. I could see his most intimate fantasies come alight in his emerald eyes. The ardor there was the perfect antidote to my fear.

"I love you," I told him, but whereas the words warmed my heart when I spoke them, this time, the sentiment only amplified the cold within my heart, breaking the moment we had shared into pieces I scrambled to recollect.

"I love you, too," he said, and the slight narrowing of his eyes told me that he felt the same vicarious frost settle over his core.

"For Rohan," he said.

"For Rohan,"

And I looked at the soldiers running about us. There was no hope in their eyes, only fear. But I knew better. Some strength within me told me that this night would not be my last, and that while many would perish, Rohan would carry on.

Feeling courage spring up in me at last, I took a step from Legolas, tilted up my head, settled a hand over my breast, and began the chant that I had known since the day I was born:

_"Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?"_

And men stopped, looked at me, and opened there mouths as well, there eyes suddenly alight as the language of the Riddermark awoke within them.

_"Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?_

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like wind in the meadow.

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,

Or behold the flowering years from the sea returning?" 

The growing of voices sounded greater than anything I heard before. And though smiles did not come to the men's faces, a fire was now burning behind their eyes, and fear had abandoned them for the time.

And as the hundreds of eyes turned towards me, having been searching for the instigator of the chant, I felt the heat behind their gazes.

And the something happened that I would ever have thought possible.

"Hail Calahdra Medlinniel!" Someone cried, "The fairest and fiercest of all Shieldmaidens to have defended us so!"

And the men raised their spears and shields to me, and even the elves rose up their fine bows. "Westu, Calahdra hail!" the Rohirrim called.

Tears came to my eyes, and I raised my hands to them, not knowing what else to do.

After the cheers died down, I gave Legolas I final look of endearment while squeezing his hand and holding it to my lips. Then, unable to bear anymore, I turned away abruptly and sought out Theoden.

"You give me pride, Calahdra," he said upon seeing me, and I bowed my head to him.

Theoden and his guard were positioned behind the main gate. We were to protect it when the archers had done all they could. But until the fighting began, we were stationed on the ramparts above the gate so that Theoden could give orders.

To my left, the Elves stood in ranks on the walkways. I could pick out Legolas easily, for he stood side by side with Gimli, who could hardly see over the stonework. Aragorn was to give the archers orders while the elvish swordsmen below waited for the enemy to come to them.

To my right were about a hundred Rohirric archers. The rest of our soldiers were waiting below for sword combat. Gamling would command the archers while Theoden commanded the swordsmen. If Theoden fell or was otherwise engaged, I would command the swordsmen in his stead.

I looked out over the now dark fields. I could just make out the lights of torches about a mile away, in the mouth of the Dike.

"Can your elf eyes see them?" Theoden asked me.

"They can. We have a while yet, my lord. Perhaps a quarter-hour,"

"Quarter-hour, three hours, now...it makes now difference to me. We shall destroy them nonetheless," my King said with such power in his voice that my hands shook.

"We shall," I agreed.

A dreadful silence engulfed the night, save the coughs and wheezes of the elderly and the ill. Many boys that had been younger than I had been when I first fought would die this night, and many men who had spent their whole lives as blacksmiths or farmers would as well.

Eofel was among these men, and so were the three men I had met this morning. And all of their wives, daughters, infants, and sisters were behind and below, huddling together in cold and fear within the Glittering Caves.

As the army approached, rain began to fall. At first, it was a dull drizzle, but this grew into a steady downpour. Still, there was silence.

I grew cold quite quickly, but my elvish blood was beginning to surface entirely, and I felt neither fear nor discomfort. Instead, I found only purpose.

The screams and burbles of the orcs and Uruk-hai came upon us, echoing off of the mountains. But still, there was silence.

And then they were just before the Deeping Wall, spears and cleavers and sundry crude weapons tapping on the ground in an increasing tempo. But still, there was silence.

And although the screams and jeers and noise were meant to inspire fear, there was only silence.

And suddenly, an arrow flew, and an orc fell, and although the cacophony of maddening sounds stopped abruptly, the silence was broken. And the battle for Helm's Deep began.


	19. Chapter 19: Siege

The madness of war was born at once.

Aragorn shouted his orders to the elvish archers, and the first line of orcs was slain as five hundred arrows met their marks.

The orcs retaliated with their own volley of arrows, and many of our men and elves fell over the walls, their bodies twisting and contorting as they fell. My eyes immediately went to Legolas, but he still stood, back erect and his bow aloft.

"Give them a volley," I heard Theoden say to Gamling, and I drew my own bow, my aim shifting from one target to another as the orcs drew ever closer.

I spied a goblin archer drawing his bow, and my elf eyes gave me the strength to see that his aim was in fact Theoden, who stood out like a sore thumb in his gleaming red and gold mail.

I let an arrow fly, and the goblin fell, a feathered shaft having grown out of the bridge of his nose.

My arrows were spent quickly, and my last was let fly, killing an Uruk who was attempting to set loose the rigging to a ladder now being lofted up the side of the Deeping Wall.

Aragorn called out the warning in Elvish, and Gamling returned the call in Rohirric.

I ran before Theoden as we descended the stairs to the ramparts, running along the base of the outer court until we had gone far enough to position ourselves above the soldiers defending the gate. We knew that as soon as the enemy met the opposition on the walls, they would attempt to break through the gate. And the Gate, although having been braced with great lengths of wood and defended above by archers, spearmen, and rock throwers, was still the fortress' greatest liability.

The screams of man and elf and orc met our ears as the ladders reached the parapets. Bodies fell over the walls and onto the courtyard we stood over. They were moved aside at once, but I felt quite sorry for the soldiers who did it. I watched as many men spat upon and kicked the corpses of orcs being tossed to the ground before the walls.

"They are moving up the Causeway! They have a battering ram!"

Our men moved forward at once, preparing to brace the gate. The longer we could hold them off, the more time the archers above had to pick off those waiting on the Causeway.

I could hear as the whistle of the arrows above change course, and I knew that the elves had the same thought in mind.

The orc's sortie, however, proved to be strong enough for their ram to reach the gate a little while later. A great clattering boom shook the great gate from its hinges, and many men raced forward to brace it.

"Calahdra!" Theoden called to me, having moved farther away. I stood with my hand in the air, signaling for the small squad of archers to hold. The moment the gate burst, I would have them begin their assault.

"My lord?" I called back.

"Go to Aragorn and tell him we have need of his elves here! We need more archers to stand on the parapets, and swordsmen!" he said, motioning to places on the walls were archers would have room enough to slay those who entered the gate but enough cover to hide.

I nodded, and just as I was about to turn, the gate broke forth, sending many men sprawling.

"Hold!" I cried, wanting for the gate to open just a little farther.

The men bracing the gate sprung back, and as my arm went down, I fell to my stomach. Thirty good arrows hit their marks.

Springing back up, I turned for the stairs. As I ascended them, I sent a silent prayer to Nienna, knowing that the fight above would be fierce.

Three stairs from the top, my hand went to Mearling.

Two stairs from the top, I drew my sword.

One stair from the greatest fight of my life, I held my sword aloft, breathing deep.

And as I broke through onto the ramparts, beholding the mass of brawling orcs, uruk-hai, men, and elves, a cry echoed from my lungs.

"Mearling! Mearling! Mearling for the Mark!"

I sprang forward, sprinting headlong through the fray, my sword flying here and there. I felt the spray of blood and sweat and tears, and watched as my people, both Rohirric and elf-kind, fell. I looked once to the left, and oversaw the great teeming sea of evil that spread over the grounds of the Dike.

To my disbelief, I made it to the opposite end of the Deep both in one piece and in record time.

"Haldir!" I cried upon seeing the elf, having just slain an Uruk and turning in my direction. "Aragorn? Where did you see him last?"

"On the front court before the door to the Hornburg!" he called back before engaging another orc. I sensed another behind me, crawling over the wall. Turning swiftly, I beheaded the creature neatly, and stabbed down the orc following the first. Looking briefly at the ladder, I cut through one of the ropes holding it aloft. With another stroke of my sword, I undid a loose bolt holding the ladder to one of its grapples. Within a moment, nearly fifty goblins ascending the ladder fell to their deaths.

"Well done!" Haldir commented, and I nodded in affirmation. Turning on my heels, I dodged several swordsmen defending the stairs and turned left, towards the mountainside encompassing the Keep.

I saw Aragorn then, fighting alongside Gimli and several other men. Uruk-hai, broad and menacing, were forcing through the small door in the wall. Back to my right were the remainder of Aragorn's elvish forces, battling a swarm of orcs and wild men that had somehow ended up in a courtyard before the gate in the inner-wall.

Drawing up alongside Gimli and Aragorn, I too fought against the Uruk-hai. Three rounded Gimli, who was cursing loudly in dwarfish and swinging his ax in such a manner that I was surprised he had not lost a leg. He brought down one, but the latter two came towards me, their own axes in hand. The first brought his weapon down, missing me by inches. With a hard overhand swing, I discarded the creature's sword arm. Spinning in a continuation of the swing, I caught the second Uruk's axe on my sword hilt, and in surprise, he let go, causing it to fall out of his hands and onto the foot of a nearby wild-man. Turning once more, I stabbed the first through the chest. As I whirled about, the second grabbed hold of my horsetail, and growled lowly as his hand met barbed steel. Grinning wickedly, I disposed of the foolish creature.

A lull in the fighting allowed for me to address Aragorn.

"Theoden has need of some of your archers and swordsmen," I told him, hardly out of breath despite my rapid and difficult swordplay. I thanked the Valar for my elvish blood in a quick mental aside.

Aragorn nodded, looking flushed. "That was quite a display," he said.

"I'll say," the dwarf agreed.

Aragorn and I ran to his fighters. He called out to some of them, and assigned twenty stern elvish swordsmen and ten archers to follow me.

I led the ellyn up the stairs and we fought our way over the fortifications, barging through patches of orcs and men. Our journey was slow-going, for the mass of bodies and enemies had increased tenfold since I had made the trip.

I tried my hardest to focus on what was ahead of me, but every once and while my foot would land on something I would rather have not thought about. Blood and gore was everywhere, and already my mail and leather was stained with a fine spray of black orc blood. The mess and stench of war was not something that could be escaped. One simply had no choice but to stomach it.

Only thirty feet from the second stair, I heard Aragorn, who had followed us with the rest of his men after sealing the breech below, calling out to the elvish archers. Or rather, _one_ of the elvish archers.

"Legolas, shoot him down! Shoot him down!" he was crying. I ran on, too confused and in too much of a hurry to look back or pause. Little did I know I was leading many of my charges to their deaths.

"Kill him! _Kill him! _" Aragorn continued to call, his voice increasing in urgency but decreasing in volume as I sped on, hacking and clubbing as I ran.

I did not stop until the stone gave way beneath me. Just behind me, a great stretch of the Deeping Wall exploded in a great clamber of flame and stone and bodies. I myself fell a great distance before landing in the water and stone behind the now shattered parapets.

Before I even landed, I knew that the devilry of Saruman was responsible for this. If the orcs broke through the blasted culvert and managed to break through our defenses beyond the Keep, they would make it to the caves. That was something I could not allow.

My good fortune was such that I landed in relatively deep water and rolled onto the straw pile reserved for the stables. Rolling to the side, I watched as Uruk-hai and wild men poured through the gaping hole. Just on the other side of their ranks I spied a figure lying in the water behind the culvert. It was Aragorn, and when he stirred, I straightened as well. When he stood and leapt out before the orcs' path, flinging Anduril about his head, I flew forward as well, thrusting Mearling through my enemies. I fought towards Aragorn, knowing that we would be safer together. But I watched in horror as a pair of Uruk-hai overtook him, flinging him to the ground. Just as I was certain they would destroy him, a small form, crying out in dwarfish, leapt upon the back of one of the Uruk.

"Khazad! Khazad!" the stout dwarf cried, saving his friend from sure death. Looking my way, he gave me a grim smile, and the three of us turned towards blocking the hole.

When elvish archers in the form of reinforcements came our way, we charged once more. The elves proved themselves just as skilled in knife-work as in archery, and before long, the Uruk-hai were pushed back. We departed, running towards where Theoden defended the gate. Aragorn and Gimli took one way, around the stairs and beneath a pass in the wall. I, on the other hand, scaled the crumbling stair, and leapt around and down the other, launching myself just behind Theoden, still overseeing the gate on the parapets of the Keep.

To my delight, the gate was now under repair as the archers took advantage of a lull in the orc's sortie on the causeway, having been distracted by the explosion. However, they were running out of time quickly, and I longed to help in any way I could.

When Theoden turned, having been giving orders for more lumber and braces, he looked at me with thanks in his eyes.

"When I heard of the explosion and you did not return, I feared the worst,"

"Aye, my lord. As did I. I fear however, that the elves I sought out for you were not so lucky as I,"

Theoden reached out, and his gloved finger brushed a tender lesion on my forehead. He shook his head. "That means little now, little one. The elves are needed where they are and we must concentrate on sealing this gate,"

Another clash upon the gate turned our thoughts towards it, and Theoden rushed forward to brace the gate, telling his men to draw their swords. While they descended the stairs, I launched my body over the wall and into the courtyard, landing neatly on both feet. I smiled at my cat-like reflexes and then threw my body at one of the braces, holding it in place with all my worth.

A great gaping hole was plunged through the gate, and orcs with crossbows appeared, launching bolt after bolt at the men. I stepped back and drew my bow, returning the gesture doubly as fast.

Theoden and Gamling rushed forward, fighting tooth and nail. Gamling, though, drew to close to the gate and an orc reached out for him. Theoden saved him from the many spears awaiting the man's body with a neat stroke of his sword, but a spear was thrust through the hole in the gate, impaling Theoden just under the arm. I cried out and leapt forward, carrying Theoden away with Gamling's help.

"Make way for the King!" Gamling yelled out as we dragged him backwards.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Theoden growled, pulling the spear from his chest-plate. While Gamling sat the King down, I inspected the spear for signs of poison or splintering. Neither looked likely, and I gave Gamling a grim nod. The man adjusted the King's armor, and we returned to our task.

Aragorn passed us then, and Theoden called out to him for help. "Hold them!"

"How long do you need?" Aragorn cried back, now entangled in the mass of bodies before the gate.

"As long as you can give me,"

Aragorn looked about and spied Gimli, reaching out for him. Together, the two rounded a passage I knew lead to a doorway exiting onto a great rock pile. I questioned how he thought he was going to make it to the causeway, for the gap between the cliff and the causeway was quite vast, especially for a dwarf, but I had learned better than to question Aragorn's intentions.

We fought on, battling the unceasing attack on the gate. As the men brought forward great lengths of wood, I put my arrows to good use, ending the attempt of any orc brave or rash enough to come near.

When little room was left for me to shoot through, Theoden pressed his face up to the remaining hole.

"Gimli, Aragorn! Get out of there!" he growled.

I heard a familiar voice call Aragorn's name, and my heart ached to hear Legolas. But I saw no flash of gold or orbs of flame. Instead, I saw only death and carnage and the ever flowing stream of orcs.

The barrage continued, but the battle was swaying out of our favor. The reinforcements could not hold the culvert, nor could the archers last much longer with the constant flow of orcs onto the battlements. The swordsmen were elsewhere, and the elves had turned to knife-work and even to hand-to-hand combat. Without protection, our offense would fade.

I was shuffled here and there, fighting in one fray or overseeing another. I fought bravely and I fought hard, never once losing faith in our defenses. Eventually, however, Theoden called me back, and I came to his side where he was now defending the culvert.

The hours passed by and the deepest hours of the night arrived far faster than anyone had expected. Our fighters were fading, and everywhere I looked our people fell. Theoden's once intoxicating faith had quite nearly disappeared. Eventually, he looked at me, and he shook his head.

"The Deeping Wall is falling, my lord. We can not stay here much longer," I said, and with those words, I watched in terror as the gate we had worked so feverishly to fortify fell. The Uruk-hai poured in, and their archers took aim at Theoden.

"The castle is breeched! Fall back to the Keep," Theoden said, his voice a mix of pain and disappointment. He had no notion, though, of the arrows soon to be shot at him.

A sudden bolt of wrath seemed to strike out within me, and I reached out to the minds of the orcs now setting their sights on my beloved king. I had no notion of what I was doing, nor did I realize how odd I looked to those around me. My one hand reached out towards the creatures below us, and with a single elvish curse, I closed my hand into a fist. The twenty creatures fell just half a second before they released their bowstrings and their bows fell with a clatter onto the stone courtyard.

It took me a moment to recover, my heart hammering terribly. Theoden looked at me affixed, appearing quite terrified himself.

I realized what I had done: I had practiced one of the worst and most evil arts one could partake in with the gift of mind-speak. I had destroyed the lesser creature's minds with my own, crushing their very souls with my will.

I put my hand to my mouth, ignoring the bitter taste of orc blood and the sickening salinity of my own, my fingers having been blistered and torn from Mearling's hilt and my bow's thin string.

A voice sounded out in my head in that moment that was not my own, nor any voice I had ever heard. It was omniscient and plainly feminine, and it was filled with both compassion and rage.

"You have done great evil, Calahdra Medlinniel. Beware! For the path to evil is more slick and more enticing than any other, and has been tread upon often by those with powers less than yours,"

I looked around wildly, and Theoden looked at me as if I had been struck by some fever.

"Peace, child! I do not know what sorcery you have used, nor what madness has taken you now, but whatever it may be, cast it aside! This is no time for such things!"

I nodded solemnly, and attempted to still my racing heart. He was right in that if I turned my focus back to the battle now, I may live another day to determine what had just happened later.

Before Mearling saw anymore combat, having slain, by my count, thirty-one, Theoden called for retreat. Our fading band of gate-guardsmen was urged back to the Keep, and I oversaw their retreat with a bitter feeling in my heart.

Even Theoden's face was painted sharply with worry. Although the orcs had not yet neared breaching the Hornburg, if they used any more of their blasting fire on the inner wall, they certainly could rally against the Keep. And until our defenses were bolstered, we were trapped within the castle like pigs waiting for slaughter.

All our remaining forces were pulled inside, and I could not help but a feel a fleeting moment of despair. I had not yet given up hope, though, for I was not gravely injured nor terribly tired, and Theoden still stood.

Legolas, though, was no where to be seen, and I could not help but shudder in terror at the thought of what may have happened to have delayed him so.

When we entered the Hall, I led Theoden to where a private partition had been issued specifically for his need. There, I saw that his injury was seen to, if though only briefly due to his impatience.

"Calahdra, you need that cut looked at," he said to me upon standing, his armor being cast upon him by Gamling, but I shook my head.

"I am an elf, my lord. Do not worry for me," I said, trying to convince him of this. He looked unsure, but did not press the issue farther. Perhaps he was frightened of me, I thought.

I looked about, still looking for blonde hair or striking emerald-blue eyes. But I saw none, and the minutes of my life began to race in a way that skewered time into a sort of macabre waltz.

Soldiers, both Rohirrim and Elves, filtered in through the great oak gate and were divided into those who were injured, who were led to the healing wing, and those who were in a passable state, who stood warily at the sides of the hall.

Aragorn was one of the last to enter the Keep, his body bruised and torn. I went to him at once, having been dismissed by Theoden, who was already at the table with his remaining counselors, a number that had decreased from twelve to five.

"Calahdra, where is Theoden?" Aragorn asked, wiping blood and sweat from his face. I gestured off to the table, a similar question in my eyes. He put a hand on my shoulder, holding my gaze with his deep, dark eyes, and nodded over his right shoulder. I saw the closing gate and watched as a single, bloodied elf slinked through the gap in just the nick of time.

I quite nearly ran, but as I saw him, the pains and aches in my body became startlingly real. My calf burst into flames, and the cut on my forehead felt like ice. My muscles began to wither, and my eyes, held open in the dark for far to long, burnt like fire.

Limping in a broken jog, I came to him, Mearling dragging in one hand and my quiver hanging over the opposite elbow. He must have heard my unfortunate gait or the clattering of my sword and quiver, and he looked up, at first as though seeing a stranger, and then coming alight with a fire so intense, my weary eyes were burned anew.

He stood at once, dropping the curved knives in his hands with a loud "twang" and embraced me. His hands and arms shook, and I could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

"Love, I thought I'd lost you,"

"You did?" I mumbled, feeling far too much relief to speak in true sentences.

"I watched you fall...," he said, trailing off as though in pain.

"I did fall...but I survived. Did you not ask Aragorn?"

"I did not...I haven't had a single word with him. The fighting is far fiercer than I imagined it to be, and there simply had been no time for talk,"

"Oh...," I mumbled, not truly caring about our conversation. All I knew was that Legolas was alive, and for the most part, well. He had his share of lesions and bruises, but he was a pure-blooded elf, and no injury could withstand his body's strengths.

When we finally parted, Legolas ran his eyes over me, surveying my injuries. The worst was by far my forehead, and touching it with still trembling fingers, he spoke a few words, words too quiet for me to hear. The pain in my scalp went away, but I could still feel the hole left behind.

"Why couldn't you heal my other injuries?" I asked, my vision beginning to dim with weariness.

"Because you did not ask,"

"I did not ask for you to heal me just then,"

"No...but I could not bear the thought of you being in pain,"

I smiled a little, and pressed my head into his chest. "We are going to die," I murmured. I was so sure of my fate now, standing next to him. But the thought did not faze me, for if we both perished, then we would have left nothing of value behind on this earth.

"Yes, we will...someday," he said.

The way he said it did not make death seem so bad.

"But we will fight to the end," he said.

"Together," I added, looking up at him.

"Together," he agreed.

An hour passed before the sky began to pale. We had spent enough time in the Keep to allow for some bolstering of the Keep's main gate. The men were now improving what work they had already done.

Legolas and I had stayed discreetly off to the side until the first few clashes of steel against seasoned wood rang out, and we leapt forward to do our part. For a long while, the enemy had struggled with the gate to the Hornburg, which was by far the mightiest off all of the fortresses entrances. But eventually, they had brought forth more of their dreaded blasting fire, having previously destroyed both the culvert and gate in the second inner wall. But now, having destroyed all but the last of the barriers separating us from their forces, they turned their attention towards the Keep.

Although our future was growing dim, many of the men had not succumbed to despair and still were doing all they could to defend the keep. Aragorn had taken charge of the reinforcement efforts, for the King now had little strength with which to continue on. Theoden had seemed to wilt as the night progressed as dose after dose of bad news was brought to him. From the latest death toll to the fact that nearly a third of our remaining forces had been forced back into the caves, it seemed as though every ill that could be thrust upon us had indeed ailed us. Gimli was among this number trapped in the caves, or so we hoped, and so the feeling of division and loss was quite personal to Legolas, Aragorn and I.

As the fleeting moments of our lives came to pass, and all the hope I had retained during the night began to finally crumble, a maddening will to live took over.

"The fortress is taken," Theoden said quite suddenly, "It is over,"

My heart wrenched to hear such words spill from his mouth, but my soul cried out in protest.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defended it!" Aragorn yelled back at him, "They still defend it! They have died defending it!"

Aragorn came back to him, pacing between Theoden's men. I stood by my king warily, feeling lost but still quite alive, and unsure of Theoden's intentions.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" he asked. No one answered. I almost thought to, but the looks on Theoden and Gamling's faces stopped my tongue.

"Is there no other way?" Aragorn repeated.

Gamling took him aside, glancing nervously at Theoden. "There is one passage. It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many,"

Aragorn shook his head determinedly. "Send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass. And barricade the entrance," he told Gamling, ignoring Theoden's look of distain entirely. The elderly king's expression then changed to one of sorrowful neutrality.

"So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?"

Aragorn looked about for a moment, and then turned to the king.

"Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them,"

"For death and for glory," Theoden said, a light suddenly gleaming in his eyes that frightened as well as inspired me.

"For Rohan," Aragorn said. And with a look towards me, he said "For your people,"

"The sun is rising," I said, looking towards the window. The sight renewed the hope within me.

The three of us looked at the rays of sunlight piercing through the stale air of the Keep. The swirling motes caught the glittering dawn like shards of diamonds.

"Yes," Theoden said, taking a firm step forward. "Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound again from the Deep...one last time!" he said.

He turned to Aragorn and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let this be the hour where we draw swords together,"

Aragorn nodded, and Theoden turned then to me.

"We ride out at dawn, Calahdra. And you shall be the maiden to lead our charge. I have no finer jewel in the vaults of Edoras than the Shieldmaiden of Fenmarch with which to blind the eyes of our enemies with the first rays of sun,"

I gave him a brave smile and straightened myself up.

"Tarilyn, I name you now, for it is a name you have greatly earned this night and you shall carry it with you until death claim you,"

I guffawed with honor, for the name was both beautiful and an honor of the highest degree. Such an epesse was more than I could bear.

"I am honored, my lord,"

With some shock, I led Theoden to the stables through a maze of halls behind the Keep. The horses had been moved deep inside the Deep, to where there was no chance of the enemy finding them before their masters had died trying to protect them.

Meleare, Snowmane, Arod, and Hasufel, as well as the steeds of all of the soldiers left in the Keep save those still ardently protecting the now besieged gate, were saddled and mounted. Legolas and I rode bareback, however, for ease of movement and better contact with our steeds. Many looked at us quizzically, but I felt as comfortable abroad Mel without a saddle as I did with one.

Legolas took my hand in his as we organized ranks. "For Rohan," he said again, with just as much feeling in his voice as there had been just before the battle. Gaining strength from his words, I sat tall and gripped Mearling's hilt with fervor.

"For Rohan,"

"And Calahdra, what does Tarilyn mean?" he asked.

"It is Rohirric for "red dawn"," I said, heating a little in pride.

"Then it is a just name for you, meleth nin,"

I drew up to Theoden, situating Meleare to the left of Snowmane. Theoden gripped his sword before him, and then looked once at Aragorn, to his right, and then to me, on his left. I knew how badly he wished that it was Theodred at his right and Eomer on his left, but the fates of his kinsmen had been decided by the foul creatures we would now charge against. There was, it seemed, justice even in chaos.

This last stand, the last ride and the last charge of the Helmingas would be for what little light was left in the world.

"Fell deeds awake," Theoden said astride his great steed. "Now for wrath. Now for ruin! And for the red dawn!"

"Forth Eorlingas!" and an accompanying bellow of the great horn of Helm echoed through the Deep.


	20. Chapter 20: Tide

A/N: Hello! I apologize for the late post. Life has been crazy lately, and I've been struggling to find the time it takes to maintain my momentum as far as updates are concerned. But for now, enjoy, and I'll get writing. -Whisper

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The gate was thrust open as the beams were tossed aside, and the expressions on the faces of the orcs that had been pressed up to the doors were ones of horror and disbelief. A great host of Rohirrim, with Theoden at its head, flanked by the Heir of Elendil and the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, was more than the ill-disposed creatures could bear.

Our column launched over the enemy, hacking and slashing our way through the field of orcs. Charging through the streets and alleys now plagued with our enemy, we screamed in rage and passion, fighting for our people and our heritage and our lives.

We were too much for the orcs to handle, and before very long at all we had made our way to the Deeping Wall. Charging through what remained of the gate, we plunged over the Causeway, tossing Uruk-hai over the sides. Behind me, some of our men had fallen, and many more had received grievous injuries. But we fought on, and the trail of destruction behind us proved greater than any loss we could have sustained.

Suddenly, a ray of the purest light burst down through one of the rocky hills surrounding us. There, upon the glorious Shadowfax, was Gandalf the White, his staff held aloft in one hand and his sword in the other. If seeing him was not shock enough to our company or the orcs, both having frozen in awe, what drew up alongside him was more than any of us could bear. Eomer son of Eomund, and all three thousand of his banished men, appeared on the outcropping.

The teeming marsh of orcs slithered nervously away from the hillside and from us, but as they began to push back into the Dike, they were stopped by yet another force. A great grove of shadowy, treacherous looking trees had appeared at the lip of the mountains, and this seemed to scare the orcs more than anything else.

Eomer's forces now crashed over the hillock, charging with such power and grace that I gasped in awe. The wave then broke over the sea, and victory was the fine mist that ensued.

The enemy shattered around us, most slaughtered as Eomer's men drew near our party, now stopped at the base of the Causeway. Those who ran into the forest did not come out, but nor did they seem to go very far. Screams and groans emerged from the woods, and the perpetual darkness between the trees seemed decidedly inescapable.

We cheered in wonder and happiness, and Legolas came alongside me, embracing me tenderly. I leaned into his arms and clutched at his hair.

The rest of the orcs put down their arms, but they were not spared. The wild-men clustered about and were allowed to live. Eomer, who had always been rumored to be as just as he was lusty, explained that they had been deceived by the treachery of a great wizard and would be pardoned if only they strove to right the mess they had created. The enlightened men were then directed to begin process of clearing the fields of the slain.

The Uruk-hai were the only ones who refused to cease their attacks, but those on the field were no match for the great horseman now swarming them, and those that had been in the caves were now chased out by the elves and men they had followed. Gimli, his head wrapped in a bloodied linen cloth, was among them.

When finally the fighting seemed to have died away, I dismounted Meleare, my whole body aching with exertion and countless injuries, but my heart filled with the intoxicating poison of victory.

Many of our remaining company were checking over their steeds. Meleare was unscathed, and my gratitude for this was voiced in a quick prayer. Bending my head and clasping my shaking, bloodied fingers, I brought my hands to my forehead. I murmured my thanks and praise for the God's protection. The only excuse I could think of for our still being alive was that the Valar had bestowed some grace upon us we had not known existed.

A hand was placed on my shoulder. I looked up into the grey eyes of Theoden, who was smiling at me gently. "Piety was not what saved our people this night, Calahdra,"

I smiled back, and lowered my hands, revealing the strands of Mithril chain and the small charm that I had been clutching at.

Theoden frowned at it, looking curious. I held it to him in my palm.

"It is a jewel from the elves of Lothlorien. A jewel my mother gave to me,"

His frown became deeper yet, and my shaking fingers twitched, wanting to hide the pendant from sight. But Theoden's fingers wrapped around my own, his hands sturdy and unscathed compared to my own. He gave me a pitying look at the sight of my ravaged fingers, but spoke to me instead about another topic entirely.

"Do not seek to hide such a gift away. You are elf-kind as well Shieldmaiden of the Mark, Tarilyn. Your people love you for both of your heritages,"

I gave him a sad smile, wishing that his words were true.

Gandalf neared us now, and the Lords of Theoden's house and the riders of the mark pressed up around us, eager to be reunited with Eomer's men. Many were brothers and friends, fathers and sons. The bonds of our people could not be broken so easily by war.

"Welcome, Eomer sister-son! It is long since I saw you last,"

Eomer dismounted and came to his uncle, hailing him first and then placing a hand on the King's shoulder. The two shared a moment of silent apology, and then Theoden turned back to Gandalf, inquiring about his timely arrival. I lost track of their conversation as Eomer caught my eye.

He was a valiant and tall man, handsome and strong in spirit and stature. I had seen him a few score times before, but never had I thought that I would ever meet him as a warrior very near to his equal.

His eyes met my own, and at first I thought to look away, but instead, I held his gaze proudly. In the few weeks where we had shared Meduseld as a home I had rarely seen him, and I doubted that he had heard of me either. But now, with rumors of my position surely having reached his ears, he recognized me at once. He gave me a single nod, and I nodded back. I turned my gaze back to Theoden, but I could feel his eyes still on me. I ignored him, too exhausted to think about the implications of his obvious and somewhat obnoxious stare.

As the conversation turned from topic to topic, I gradually grew even more exhausted. Aragorn, who was standing just behind me, must have sensed that I was drawing nearer to unconsciousness and had placed a hand on my back, holding me up.

Eventually, Theoden disbanded our party and told us to rest, for our party would be leaving that evening for Isengard. I had missed the explanation for why we were riding there, but I held my questions, swaying dangerously.

"You are dead on your feet, Calahdra," Aragorn whispered to me, guiding me back to Meleare.

I nodded, eyes closed and hands balled in fists.

Legolas and Gimli walked to us and Aragorn explained my condition to them. Gimli laughed, but Legolas' hand moved to my waist. He was silent with worry as he helped me mount up.

"I will tend Gimli's injuries if you will see to Calahdra, Legolas," I heard Aragorn say, and Legolas must have nodded, for he said nothing.

I used the last reserves of my strength to tell Meleare where I needed her to take me. She must have gotten there safely, for I ended up in a small chamber with Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn. When I opened my eyes, the dwarf was laying on a cot with Aragorn dabbing at the nasty gash on his forehead.

Legolas sat beside me, and he pressed a damp rag to my own head.

I sought out his eyes with my own and when his gaze met mine, he smiled slowly.

"Are you well?" he murmured in Sindarin. I nodded once.

"With you here, of course," I told him, my voice raspy from the screams and cries of war. Legolas offered me a mug of water and I drank it heartily, treasuring every drop.

"Where else are you injured, sweetling?" he asked, wiping the grime from my face.

"I think my fingers are the worst, but other than that, I'm just sore,"

Legolas picked up one of my hands in his and looked at the torn fingertips. My gloves had been worn through from the hilt of my sword and the string of my bow. In place of the leather meant to protect my skin, great blisters, welts, and lesions had appeared. My fingernails were blackened with soot, but my fingertips were turning black with infection.

"Oh, love. This is no good,"

Aragorn, having finished with a now dosing Gimli, came over to my cot. He took my hand from Legolas and ran his own fingers over mine gently. For all of his tenderness, I still hissed in pain. He gave me an apologetic look, and then reached for a basin of water. Muttering to Legolas, who added a few herbs and oils into the basin, he reached for bandages and a small cask of salve.

"You must have torn the skin right off, my friend," Aragorn said sadly, and he placed my hands in the warm water. I winced for a moment, but then relaxed as the pain began to fade.

Aragorn whispered more instructions to Legolas and then retreated to tend to his own injuries.

I closed my eyes, savoring the quiet and the safety. My mind was still wrapped up in violence and anxiety, and I was prepared to jump at any moment and kill more orcs, but Legolas cool hand on my brow slowly put thoughts of peace into my mind. He was safe, Aragorn and Gimli were safe, Theoden was safe, and Meleare was safe. I was safe.

The battle was over. The sun was rising. We had survived the night. And with those thoughts, I faded into sleep.

I was roused only a few hours later, and the sleep I had managed to pilfer was hardly enough to heal my many maladies. But I was proud and I was strong, and I was well enough that I could defend my King yet.

I stood, stretched out my aching limbs, and looked around the room, my arms held up over my head and my back arched. Gimli had left his cot, but Legolas had taken his place. Aragorn was napping on a chair, his cloak balled up behind his head. I smiled at the sight.

I looked down at myself and frowned in dismay. My exposed skin was caked with dirt and blood, and my armor was full of tears, scrapes, and dents. Removing my leather vest, I ran a hand over my mail. Right over my heart was rather large dent and a tiny hole where an orc must have landed a rather lucky blow to my chest. I realized then the number of times I had come so very close to death.

I looked around the room again and found my packs by the door. I smiled and sent a mental thank you to Legolas.

Whilst rummaging through my things, Aragorn woke. He stood and stretched like I had and then placed a hand on my shoulder.

"How are your hands?" He asked me.

"They are doing well, I think," I told him, splaying out my linen wrapped fingers before me.

He patted my shoulder. "If you they need seeing too...,"

"I'll come to you," I finished for him, smiling up at him. But the smile was half-hearted. My exhaustion and discomfort still plagued my heart and I could tell that my pain showed plainly in my eyes.

Aragorn pressed his palm to my head and I looked down, swallowing.

"You are safe now, Calahdra. Do not let mere memories consume you," he said, and then he left, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

I turned back to my packs and pulled out a clean tunic and a pair of leggings. I stripped expertly, having practiced the art of armor removal too many times to count. When I stood in nothing but my corset and breeches, I looked nervously over at Legolas. But then the memory of our hour spent in the hot springs assaulted me, and my blush was replaced by a deeper scarlet.

I changed unabashedly after my flush passed, sponging away the grime encasing my body before pulling clean clothes on. Legolas' leaf, which had miraculously survived, was weaved into the grass braid still circling my wrist.

Finally, I washed out my hair and twisted it into a thick bun. I made a few last minute repairs to my armor, put my mail, bracers, greaves, and vest back on, and then turned to wake Legolas.

His eyes were open, like I was used too, but a fog was clinging to them, as if he really was asleep. His hands were clasped together, resting on his chest, and his blonde locks spilled out around his head.

Reaching out, I traced his nose like I had before the battle. He blinked at once and looked up at me. He smiled slowly, and then sat up, only to bring me back down with him. I sat on the edge of the cot and rested my head against his chest. He cradled me to his body and stroked my cheek.

"How are you?" I asked, pulling my head away to look him over.

"I'm fine, lirimaer," he said, laughing a little at my serious expression. His cheer faded, though, and he took my hands in his again.

"Calahdra, Haldir fell," he said, and I bowed my head in sadness. I had hardly known the ellon at all, but to lose the one connection I had to my mother's past was quite wrenching.

"Who else...do you know of?" I asked him quietly.

"I saw Eofel's body when we made our way back to the keep, meleth. I am so sorry,"

I nodded sadly after a moment of shock. We had lost many soldiers, as well as many brave men who had never meant to be soldiers. The battle had taken its toll. But we had survived, and the women and children were safe. Rohan would live another day.

I stood, and Legolas stood with me.

"I adored Eofel, and he adored me. He would have given me a fair switching if he saw me cry over his sacrifice,"

Legolas smiled sadly, but he looked content with my reply and turned to dress.

Eventually, Gimli rapped on the door and told us that Theoden was preparing to leave. We packed our things, strapped our weapons onto our persons, and left the room.

We spoke very little after that, simply glad to be alive and together. There were no words that could convey our gratefulness, and had they existed, we would not have sought them out.

When we entered the stables, we parted ways ruefully, but nevertheless intent on attending to our steeds.

_"Meleare, how do you fare?" _I asked my mare as I saddled her, looking her over again.

_"Quite well, actually. I saw less battle than I had expected, and of that I am grateful,"_I said, laughing a little. Legolas looked up as he heard the noise and smiled at me happily. He seemed quite worried about me still, and I was glad that my light hearted laughter reassured him. Danger had passed for now, and I felt well enough that my spirits were high.

"I wish I could share your sentiment, love,"

Legolas, Gimli, Arod, Meleare, and I met Theoden's party in the courtyard before the gate to the Keep. It was in the process of being repaired, and the courtyard had been cleared of all bodies. On the grounds of the Dike, two mounds had been raised for the soldiers of Rohan that had fallen in the battle. When we rode out, Theoden stopped to place the first shovelfuls of dirt on both graves. I sent up a prayer for the men that had died protecting Helm's Deep and thanked the Valar once more for the fact that I was not one of them.

Many of the survivors were already leaving. The men and women and children of the Westenmet were anxious to return to their homes and salvage their lives, and the people of Edoras knew that the feasts would be fierce when Theoden arrived home. I could tell that although the battle and the grief of losing so many that they had loved was driving them mad, the greater madness lie in their clutches at normality. The sooner our people could sleep in their own beds and cook their own meals, the sooner they could celebrate our victory.

And so two great rivers of people were now pouring forth from the ruinous fortress: those headed south, and those headed northwest. Our small party of few more than thirty was dwarfed by the great numbers of common folk, but the thought made me smile nonetheless.

As we rode towards the forest looming at the mouth of the Dike, I turned to Legolas. "Why are we riding to Isengard?" I asked. He smiled at me.

"Gandalf wants information from Saruman, and as you can imagine, Theoden wants revenge,"

"As do we all," I said, my voice nearly a growl. If I had had it my way, Saruman would burn at my own hands for his crimes against our people.

Legolas must have saw the murderous intent my eyes and reached out for my hands, wrapped in their white bandages and still shaking just as badly as they had that morning.

"Peace, meleth. Justice finds a way of making it to the hands of those who deserve it,"

I nodded curtly, but my hands shook even harder at the thought of the wizard's treachery.

When we made it to the border of the trees, our company stopped. I was not as frightened of the grove as others appeared to be. In fact, I was rather enthralled by it. Legolas appeared likewise, and I assumed that our curiosity stemmed from our common blood. Theoden and his men, however, did not look so inclined. But Gandalf and Shadowfax went forward, and before them, a great arched road appeared, just wide enough for three horses abreast. Alongside the path ran the Deeping stream, and I wondered at the trees once more.

Theoden beckoned me forward, and I rode beside him. Eomer was on his right, and behind us rode Legolas and Gimli, Gandalf, and Aragorn.

"It is hot in here," Legolas said to Gandalf. Gimli had grown quiet, in fear of the strange wood, perhaps. "I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb about your ears?"

"Yes," said Gandalf.

"What has become of the miserable orcs?" Legolas inquired of him, seeking answers from the source we all would have sought, and that being the White Wizard. But Gandalf shook his head.

"That, I think, no one shall ever know,"

We trudged on through the woods, and Legolas and Gimli struck up a conversation behind me. Legolas was attempting to convey his fascination with the forest to Gimli, but the dwarf was having none of it.

Theoden chuckled a little upon overhearing their argument.

"Do you feel such a curiosity as well, Calahdra?" he asked.

"I do, my lord. The affinity with nature most elves possess runs hot and strong in my blood,"

"So I have noticed. Your mare and you seem to have a very strong bond,"

"Yes indeed. Sometimes to strong, I think. She doesn't have half the respect she would have for me if I did not dote on her so much,"

Theoden smiled, and ran his hand through Snowmane's vibrant locks. "It never ceases to amaze me, the connection between a horse and his rider,"

"It is a power only our people can truly behold, my lord,"

Theoden nodded. A thin, yet undeniable smile was on his lips.

* * *

The conversation between Legolas and Gandalf was pulled directly from The Two Towers. I thank Tolkien for his brilliance, and you should too.

Please R+R!


	21. Chapter 21: Inexplicable

Our quiet company continued on with Legolas and Gimli's chatter becoming a comforting drone in the background. I remained silent for a long time, losing myself in memories of traipsing through the outskirts of the Firien Wood near Fenmarch. I missed those sheltered groves dearly, and I wondered what had become of them since last I had wandered within them.

Fenmarch was the easternmost fief of Rohan, and as it was the closest realm of Rohan to Mordor, the shadow of the great enemy was darkest there. The defense of the eastern border was left to my father's forces.

Attacks were plentiful during the spring and early summer to the north of us, near the Emyn Muil, where the terrain was treacherous and the fighting gory. But the greater threat came from the White Mountains, capable of masking the wild men, wolves, and other fell beasts looming in the mountain's hillocks. Because of this, I had never strayed too far from home, always staying in sight of the spires and banners of our manor, which rested on a hill beside the forest. The town of Fenmarch was centered in the valley below the manor, and the Fendowns, the farming communities of Fenmarch, were spread out like a great fan around the valley and encompassing hills.

Whereas I had always felt a twinge of fear when walking in the forest because of my father's constant warnings and my mother's protestation, I felt safe in these woods. Although unknown to me, and clearly possessing a conscious that was capable of destroying whatever it pleased, these woods currently held a benevolent aura. An aura of neutrality that was constant until threatened. I figured that as long as we kept our swords sheathed and Gimli kept his axe lowered, these trees would let us pass without question.

The sun began to set through the bare limbs of the forest, and eventually, we made it out of the forest, now looking upon the Snowbourne the mouth of the dike running north and east on either side of us.

Just as the scraggly shadows of the foreboding forest reached their ends beneath the hooves of our steeds, Legolas gave out a cry. I turned to see him pulling Arod around, prompting him back into the woods.

"There are eyes! Eyes looking out from the shadows of the boughs! I never saw such eyes before," he said, and my own eyes beheld the very scene he spoke of. Great glittering orbs sparkled within the shadows, filled with a golden hue of benevolence and knowledge. With the same sigh Legolas had uttered, I spurred Meleare around.

_"Calahdra, please do not go back into those woods. You may have found them charming, but I think them anything but," _Meleare told me. Gandalf and Gimli shared similar sentiments with Legolas.

As the words were exchanged, the eyes had neared us, and now great hulking tree-like trolls were shrugging out of the wood. Gasps lit up all around me, but I could merely gape.

The creatures let out long ringing tones, much like deafeningly loud yawns. Our steeds grew increasingly nervous, but we held them in place, seeking some explanation as to what these creatures were. But when the tree-people ceased their calls and beheld us, looking somewhat surprised, many of our men did stray away, hands on their swords.

"You need no weapons," Gandalf told us sternly, "These are but herdsmen. They are not enemies; indeed they are not concerned with us at all,"

And he was right, for having only glanced at us the great creatures had faded back into the landscape from which they had emerged.

"Herdsmen!" Theoden, speaking allowed the collected thought of all of us, save the seemingly omniscient white wizard. "Where are their flocks? What are they, Gandalf? For it is plain that to you, at any rate, they are not strange,"

"They are the shepherds of the trees," Gandalf said, and suddenly a memory of old, weathered parchment touched at my conscience.

I remembered them now, the Ents of Fangorn. Great troll like creatures that walked about the trees, seeing that peace and health prospered in their lands. Like parents tending newborns.

Gandalf explained them to Theoden and the other riders, and Legolas looked between Gandalf and the forest, looking intrigued by both the explanation and the sighting that had spurred it.

It became clear then that the Ents and their mystical wandering charges were responsible for the destruction of the orcs.

"You are not without allies, even if you know them not," Gandalf said to Theoden.

Theoden looked gloomy at the statement, and mumbled something only Gandalf could hear. The wizard responded, placing a hand on Theoden's arm in comfort. But the act did little good for King or company, for our temporary wonder passed, and instead the sickening aftertaste of war beat anew within our hearts.

Gandalf led our party along the river, which was subtly turning northwest. As we followed the plains and hills beyond the Coomb, night fell and a pale moon rose above us, looking as weep-ish as many of the woman I had seen earlier that afternoon.

A few hours into the night, we came to a crossing in the Snowbourne. Leading our horses down the gentle slope to the river, we came upon an odd sight. The River, usually churning and rushing with water from the mountains, was now as bare and brittle as charcoal. We crossed in silence, looking about with a common expression of confusion on our faces. But the foremost expression was exhaustion. My body was beginning to tremble with tiredness once more and I knew that I would not last much longer.

Our company stopped around midnight, resting in a secluded hollow near the river bank. After dismounting Meleare and sending her out to graze, Legolas and I sat by a fire shared by Gimli, Aragorn, and Eomer. Eomer's gaze widened a little when Legolas rested his hand on my knee, but I dismissed his reaction, use to the surprise of those who saw us by now.

Aragorn passed us a plate of sausage he had been heating, but we both refused. Instead, Legolas pulled two apples from within his cloak and gave one to me.

I ate mine drowsily, staring blankly at the fire. I thought after Eowyn, who was by now camping with those she was leading back to Edoras. Surely she would see the task she had been assigned to as a blow to her honor. I could imagine the pout on her face as Edoras came into view, the great hall glittering boldly as the autumn sun slanted off of Meduseld's golden roof.

I looked then to Eomer, who was talking quietly with Aragorn. The resemblance between the Horselord and his sister was striking. He had the same golden hair, wide, earthy eyes, and high forehead. He was understandably broader than she, but had an air of slenderness about him, as if he was quite conscious of his own stature.

A squeeze around my middle told me that I had been caught in the act of inspecting another man.

"He's certainly stunning, Aieriel. I can see why you could find him captivating," a low voice spoke in my ear.

I blushed thoroughly, ducking my head like a chastised child.

Legolas chuckled, though, and I knew that I wasn't really in trouble. "Don't be put out, lirimaer," he whispered, "Just promise me that you'll make it up to me later,"

I smiled sensuously at the fire and squeezed the hand resting on my naval.

Eomer noticed and nodded to us. "How long has that been going on? You were unclaimed last we met, Master Elf," he said. I raised my eyebrows, unaware of the fact that the two had met already.

When Legolas and Aragorn did not answer, I sat up straight and looked the bold man in the eyes.

"Much has changed over the course of very little time," I told him, "While war breaks many hearts, it mends more than one might think,"

Eomer looked doubtful and glowered in the direction of the fire between us. "I have yet to see the proof of that," he muttered.

"The proof you seek for is before your very eyes, Eomer," Aragorn said firmly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. Aragorn stood, retrieving his pipe from within his weathered cloak as he did so. Legolas shot him a questioning look and Aragorn nodded.

"I will go with him," he whispered to me, and I nodded.

Eomer watched the pair go and then looked back at me. "Tell me how you met him," he said. The command in his voice amused me, and I wondered how long it would take for the habitual tone to wear off.

"We met in Meduseld, the day he arrived. And we have been inseparable ever since," I explained, wrapping myself in my cloak as I spoke.

"Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, and stood as if to come to me.

I shook my head firmly. "What elven blood lies in me keeps me from growing cold,"

Eomer did not seem surprised by this. By now, I had come to accept that my once mysterious heritage was now known by all. But Eomer did seem confused.

I looked pensively towards the eastern sky and shuddered unconsciously. "I feel the evil growing closer, as if the shadow gains on us even in the dark,"

Eomer was all at once uncomfortable, as if some insect had found its way into his shirt. He glanced towards the east himself and recoiled from the sight as if it burned him.

"I would think that I would be used to such a comment by now. Yet even through all that has occurred, I am shaken by the very thought,"

"We all are, Eomer," I told him, now beginning to undo the laces of my bracers. "Some of us hide our fear better than others because we've learned that we cannot live with the tarnish of terror lying so heavily upon us,"

Eomer nodded solemnly in agreement.

I undid my boot laces and pulled my feet from them. With a sigh, I let my toes sift through the verdant river-silt lining the Snowbourne. Eomer gave me a look that plainly conveyed his perplexity.

"Think me strange, if you so please, but do not risk my temper," I said, standing with a catlike stretch.

"I do not think you are strange, Tarilyn. Nor would I risk your temper," he said with a chuckle. But the amusement passed from his face and was replaced with a much softer, more intricate look. "I find you...delightful...in an exotic way,"

Unknown to him, he had indeed risked my temper. But before my anger at his having spoken as if I was a passing clothing style amounted into anything potentially violent, I stormed away.

My anger passed quite quickly though, due mostly to the unrelenting fatigue pressing ever closer on the perimeters of my mind. My pulse slowed to a dull ache as I neared the river.

The river itself still flowed gently, but chapped islands, choked of water, had appeared. The white striped rapids were eerily missing, yet instead of giving the river a softer appearance, it looked sickly and frail.

Too exhausted to contemplate as to why the river was so shallow, I ignored my confusion and hiked up my breeches over my knees, intent on wading in the cool water. Feeling the currents lap at my shins, I breathed in deeply, savoring the scents of pine, snow, and earth. The night sky was a pale violet; a burning blue diluted by the last rays of sun still clinging to the husky gloom.

The cool water soothed both my aching muscles and my troubled mind. Despite its healing powers though, the river could not entirely cleanse me of the scourge of battle.

Especially the sadistically serene voice of an unnamed lady.

The memory of whatever it was that had transpired before the gate of the Keep was sinister enough to induce trembling. And although I did not wish it, my mind delved deep into the memory, attempting to unveil whatever secrets bound the event.

Before me, the brisk waters of the Snowbourne flowed over the rocks strewn haphazardly by the mountain. Within me, however, the bodies of goblins feel without a finger having been laid upon them.

Tears rolled inexplicably down my face. I could scarcely comprehend the depth of what I had done, yet I knew enough to tell me that my actions whatever they had been, were rooted deeply in evil.

A sudden sickly warmth settled over me, and the pale light of the moon seemed to intensify around me.

"You're acts were not in vain, Calahdra. Do not let my words lead you to despair,"

I looked about in alarm, blinking rapidly to clear my eyes. But it was not hard to spot the speaker.

Before me, a lady swathed in pale silver and the softest white stood regally amongst the dim waters of a dying river.

The scene involving the ents and the conversation between Theoden and Gandalf was pulled directly from The Two Towers: The Road to Isengard. I'd like to thank Tolkien once more for his genius.  
Please, please, please review this chapter. Your reviews would be like early Christmas presents, and would be greatly appreciated. Happy Holidays!-Whisper


	22. Chapter 22: Torrent

"But...my lady, you spoke of...," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Of the doom that was imminent had my words gone unheeded. But you have shown true remorse, and therefore the path you had started upon merged with a different, brighter one," the lady said, now drawing but a hand's width from me. Slowly, she laid a hand against my cheek. It became clear then that she was nothing but an apparition, for the comforting feeling of a cool hand was replaced by the memory of one.

I gazed deeply into a pair of strikingly azure eyes. "You have no notion of who I am, do you?" the eyes questioned me, soundlessly.

I was silent for a time, waiting as the recollection of pages turning sped through my mind. But no name, image or history came to mind.

"I am Galadriel, Lady of the Wood," she said, and my whole body began to burn with understanding.

I backed away and knelt hastily, silently cursing myself for my ignorance. But Galadriel laughed, her voice a concoction of all manner of sorrow and glee.

"Dare not bow before me, young warrior," she said beckoning for me to rise. I took her slim, silvery hand and rose. "It is I that came to speak to you, after all,"

"And to what do I owe your grace?" I asked.

"To your will. To your constitution," she said. The Lady motioned for me to walk alongside her, and together we waded upstream.

"I am sure you are wondering as to how I took notice of you at all, so I shall tell you that now," she said, her voice an ethereal growl.

I frowned, entirely bewildered, but not beyond comprehension.

"Many years ago, your mother left the woods of Lothlorien having met young man of Rohan, who had wooed her with tales of the outside world. I am sure you have heard the story of how she came to be, being half-elven and all...,"

I shook my head, and Galadriel, looking surprised, halted. "You have not?"

"My lady, my mother and I were never truly on speaking grounds. I knew of her bloodlines, but she was unwilling to explain anything further to me,"

"Hmmm," Galadriel mused, looking distant. "In short, Calahdra, your grandfather was a bit of a renegade. He ran deserted his patrol and found a woman in the woods of Ithilien, just before it was overrun, and he brought her back a year later, with your mother in hand,"

I raised my eyebrows. I knew from what I had read of elvish culture that such marriages were nearly taboo. Only two such marriages had resulted in anything near happiness. For as fair as elves were, they were far from tolerance of such blatant disregard for tradition.

"Honestly, Calahdra, it truly is not as uncommon a happenstance as it may seem. The history books are rewritten. Oral histories are curved to fit the morals hoped to be passed on to youngsters. Only the heroes and heroines of old find any place in them. For, if there is anything elves value more than the preservation of our pure and pristine bloodlines, it is valor," Galadriel said, a little sardonically.

"But, to continue with my tale, which must be told in full if to be told at all, I should say that your mother herself had no love of her heritage. She lived in a world to which only half of her was bound, and it began to rip her apart far before she truly deserted her people.

"Now, certainly you know how it happened that your parents met,"

I nodded, "He was injured gravely and his horse somehow cam into the borderlands of your country,"

Galadriel nodded in affirmation and walked on through the river. "Though it is unlawful in our realm for strangers to enter our woods, your father was in grave peril, and I, sensing a waning life force nearing our domain, sent a search party out for him.

"At first, many opposed my decision. But when the severity of his condition was determined, many reversed their opinions. You see, although my people were deeply afraid of the rising threats upon our borders, we were not yet beyond compassion.

"His healing took many weeks, and your mother, having been studying herb lore at the time, became a near-constant presence in his life. As you can imagine, it was natural for him to fall in love with her.

"You see, your mother was not of a heart like yours. She had witnessed tragedy enough in her young years to have been rendered a great deal more austere than the average young female. She craved something more than the memory-filled woods of her younger days; some other scene to replace the images that so vividly reminded her of grief and loss,"

I cut in, my interest having been piqued. "Of what grief and loss do you speak? My mother spoke little of her past and nothing at all of her childhood. I am afraid that I know nothing of the grief you tell of,"

Galadriel paused for a moment in silence, deliberating.

"Your maternal grandfather died when Erdolliel was very young. He was murdered by orcs while on patrol. His wife died of grief, and Erdolliel was left with her brother. Eventually, after being shuffled from foster home to foster home, they settled with a family. Just when some peace had been granted to them, however, your uncle died, having been shot while training to enter the Galahdrim.

"Your mother was full of such sorrow that she was avoided and shunned by all. Few were willing to import the energy necessary to mend her, especially as the Shadow grew over our land. And so she went on, grief stricken, desolate, unable to find comfort in love or friendship. That is until your father came along.

"I am not so sure that she ever truly loved him. You, see, she had no taste for romance anymore, or even friendship. But companionship was palatable to her, and your father could provide her with the escape she had been craving for so very long. In your father's eyes, however, Erdolliel was a goddess. She was a beauty, a prize, and someone fully ready to assimilate into his life.

"But your father's health did permit their departure, and so they lived as a couple in Caras Galadhon for a few months. They were not ignored, as they might have hoped. Even elves can fall victim to social prejudice, and therefore your mother was the subject of many salacious and mostly untrue rumors. But when three years passed and she became pregnant, the populace was thoroughly outraged and proclaimed exile.

"And so your mother went, leaving as much of her heritage behind her as she could, so it seems. Of course, she could not be rid of it entirely," Galadriel noted, looking pointedly at my necklace. I placed a hand over it and smiled a little, despite the seriousness of Galadriel's tale.

"And this brings us to you, born but a few years later,

"You see, Calahdra, the gift of foresight is like a sieve. The greatest and most prominent visions will remain in my possession, available for inspection, while the smaller ones will seep through. Your mother, consequently, was of very little importance to me, for she had not been a contributing member of society whilst in Lothlorien and I honestly could not imagine her becoming any different in Rohan. But the minute you were born, my perspective changed.

"I could not clearly see what it was that you would accomplish, for your very life was tangled with so many other, as is true now. Yet, I could feel the power of your fëa so solidly that I blindly reached for every vision pertaining to your future.

"But every answer I seemed to grasp at changed and I lost interest as other, greater visions began to slip past my sight.

"I kept an eye on you, though, and as the years progressed, your future became much clearer. And then a day came when a vision of the Battle of Helm's Deep came to pass, and I knew, despite the evils that seemed so surely to be capable of devouring all of my realm, that I owed you some consul, even if it was brief.

"And that, Calahdra Medlinniel, is why I am here,"

I was speechless for a while, overwhelmed by the brevity of her words. Silence enveloped us for a long while before she spoke again.

"I have frightened you," she said, placing a cool, translucent hand on mine.

"No. Merely caught me off guard," I said quietly, smiling up at the regal blonde.

"Then what are you afraid of?" she asked, searching my eyes.

I looked away and bit my chapped lower lip. I ran my teeth over the crags and valleys of it, tasting salt. Whether it was blood or tears, I could not tell. I thought for a while, though in truth I did not need too. I had been sifting through the answers to that question long before she had appeared before me.

"I am afraid of losing everything I have worked for,"

"Ah, but be sure to differentiate between that which you have earned and that which you have happened on by chance," she said, looking pointedly towards our camp.

Although I could vaguely understand the context of her words, the reality of them were far too painful to contemplate.

"I will leave you now," Galadriel said a bit sorrowfully. I nodded solemnly and stood before her.

"You are a brave, wise, and beautiful young woman, Calahdra. Do not forget that, even when all that is light in your life seems to have been distinguished by what is dark,"

And with those words, her apparition flickered out like a candle.

I wondered back to the shore, filled with a mix of melancholy, adrenaline, and pain that all resulted in a throbbing fever of emptiness. By now, my whole body was racking from exhaustion and misuse, but Galahdriel's words had numbed me like some liquor of her domain.

Just as I bent to pick up my boots from the water's edge, a gurgling rush sounded out upstream of me. And quite suddenly, the river was full again, expanding and pulsating until it was a full foot and a half higher. I, at first shocked and then thoroughly alarmed, leapt back up the riverbank until I was safe from the flood.

Above me, I voice sounded out. "Calahdra!"

It was Legolas, sounding fully alarmed.

"I am here!" I called back, but my voice did not have strength enough to carry the sound to his ears. I watched then as he slinked down the muddy slope 30 yards to my left.

"Cal...!"

"I am here," I called once more, using up a good deal of the waning oxygen in my lungs in the process.

He turned to my voice, and upon seeing me, he broke into a run.

As he neared, I saw traces of fear escape his eyes.

"I didn't know where you had gone. And when I felt the river...I...," he looked forlornly at the Snowbourne, now littered with all sorts of detritus.

I looked up at him, too out of sorts to feel amusement or anger.

"I am here," I repeated once more, my voice a muted version of itself.

He frowned and lifted a single finger to trace a tear streak down my nose.

"You've been crying,"

I gazed at his chest, running my tongue over my now bleeding lips.

Legolas lifted my chin up to his face. Upon seeing my poor lips, he ran his thumb over them, and then over my cheeks.

"You are a mess, my darling,"

A rye smile came to my lips. "I am the image of war, am I not?"

"More like the image of vagrants and beggars,"

I let out a single chuckle at this and then collapsed into his chest. "I miss my bed," I muttered sadly.

"I miss your bed, too," he said, and with gentle force, he swiftly pulled me up into his arms.

After carrying me back up the silty dune with catlike grace, he managed to find our tent without attracting much attention. Most of the men were gazing at the river, musing aloud their hypotheses on how the torrent had happened. They paid little attention to the silent elf slinking around their campfires.

I hardly recalled the way he had peeled away my boots and leather or the way he had wrapped me in our blankets. I was blisteringly aware, however, of the single kiss he had placed on my forehead. After that, however, the lull of his song disappeared into the same precarious, blackened reality as everything else that had transpired that evening.


	23. Chapter 23: Chance

We left early that morning, the men restless and eager to leave the haunting scenery behind us. Legolas was quiet, being exceedingly gentle with me while we packed and mounted up. I was grateful for it, for although I was relatively better rested, a dilemma of another sort was reminding me acutely of the often accursed femininity associated with being of the womanly persuasion.

We rode out a few minutes after sunrise, pushing over a land that looked foreign enough to me that I was almost certain that we were not in Rohan. The land, for lack of a better term, was dead. And with us rode the dark, gristly ghost that was death.

We stopped for not more than twenty minutes at midday in order to rest our steeds and let them drink from the Isen.

"You've been eerily quiet, lass. Don't tell me that the wizard has spelled you already," Gimli told me upon dismounting.

"No, Gimli. Not spelled. Rather...disillusioned,"

A confused expression settled on the dwarf's face, and he made as if to question me further, but Legolas placed a lithe hand on his friend's shoulder. Gimli quieted at once.

Later, as I rubbed Meleare down and checked over her back for saddle sores, Theoden approached me from behind.

"Calahdra?" he asked gently.

"Yes my liege?" I asked in a cracked voice still worn from battle.

"I have a request to make of you. I was wondering if you would be present in the party that will...parley with Saruman,"

"Of course, my lord. Why would I not?"

Theoden opened his mouth as if to answer but closed it. I frowned.

"You seem troubled, Calahdra. And perhaps you are merely battle-weary, but I did not wish to burden you with darker troubles,"

I was silent, feeling rather vulnerable quite suddenly. It seemed as if everyone had noticed my distress when I most wished to veil it.

"I...thank you, my liege," I said, nodding my head. Theoden placed a hand on my own, which was resting against Meleare's flank.

"Thank you, Tarilyn," his voice was thick with sentiment, and with that he walked away.

Legolas rounded Meleare a little while later. Carefully, he placed a gentle hand on her muzzle and turned her in a right angle to where she had been. I stood mute with confusion until I realized that he had affectively shielded us from view of the thirty or so soldiers clumped around Theoden and Eomer.

Legolas gathered my waist in his hands and looked over me, grinding circles into my lower back with lithe thumbs.

I sighed and laid my head against his chest. "Thank you, Legolas, for being so kind to me," I murmured,"

"Lle creoso, lirimaer," he replied, kissing the top of my head.

I backed away a half step and wrapped my hands around his. "Is it wrong for me to feel this way? To feel so...lost?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, my dear, you are not lost. To be lost is to be alone, and I will never leave you,"

I smiled, and yet a single tear broke from my eye and rolled over my mud-stained cheeks. I chuckled humorlessly at the contradiction I looked, but internally I was crying out against the feeling of being governed by two entirely separate emotions.

With a shake of my head, I reached up and kissed him with all of the gratitude, passion, and love I could muster.

And as the world spun around me, albeit a little slower than usual, I hardly registered Meleare's voice sounding out in my mind.

_"I resent this,"_

We neared the sloping woods of Fangorn long before sunset, but we camped once more outside of them that night, hoping to appear well-rested for our 'meeting' with Saruman the next day.

But none slept, for the land, which was not much more than a brittle turf of brambles and carcasses, seemed to have a bitter curse laid upon it that threatened all those that even so much as dared to close their eyes.

Though Legolas endeavored to harangue me into sleep for quite a while, I declined and instead took the place of a weary looking watchman. I sat for quite a while, watching Meleare graze on what little vegetation she could find. She remained in a small batch of low shrubbery to the east while the Fangorn loomed in the north. I hummed a soft Elvish lay and braided the frail grass beneath me.

It was not long at all, however, until Eomer came to disturb me.

"Westu hal," he greeted me, sitting cross-legged to my right.

"Westu hal," I returned, "May I assist you in some way, Marshall?"

"No, Tarilyn," he said, looking out over the same scene I had been absorbing for the last hour or so. He then turned to look at me. "I was hoping to apologize to you, for offending you last evening,"

I was quite surprised by his admission, for Eomer was a great man, and great men are often prone to the sort of arrogance that does not permit honesty or regret.

"Thank you, Eomer," I managed, but looked away awkwardly the moment I saw his earthy eyes turn up in a smile. I could not help but feel as though his presence begged some other basis than merely an apology, and the thought concerned me.

A moment of rugged silence passed by before the rhythm of hoof beats neared the crest on which we sat.

"Namarie, Meleare," I greeted my mare. She whinnied back in affirmation.

"Naa...Namary?" Eomer asked, butchering any attempt at the Elvish greeting with his thick Eastfold accent.

"It is elvish for 'greetings'," I explained.

"I know that...but why would you not greet your horse in Rohirric if you were to greet her at all?"

"I do speak to her in Rohirric, especially when in battle. But Elvish seems much softer to me. Its gentleness serves the purpose of greeting one I love much more soundly than Rohirric does,"

"Is that so?" Eomer mused, but with a shake of his head he looked away, "You are an anomaly to me, Calahdra,"

"Truly?" I asked.

"You seem so...," He paused, "I am not sure how to phrase this without a repeat of last night...,"

"No, truly, Eomer, tell me what you mean," I prompted him.

"It does not seem to me that you are a mix of two heritages. It seems to me, rather, that one moment you are a shieldmaiden of Rohan, with your firm command of yourself and those you lead, and that the next moment you are an elf maiden, as ethereal and guarded and foreign as a god,"

I understood what he meant. It was undoubtedly true that I was an anomaly even to myself; an unexplainable phenomenon that simply existed in whatever scene she was tossed into.

"I can understand your point. But I shall always be a shieldmaiden before all else,"

There was a mild dose of doubt in Eomer's eyes, but he let the subject drop and instead turned his attention to Meleare, who was crunching on the long strips of grass I had spent so long braiding.

"You goon, look what you've done!" I said, swatting her muzzle away. Meleare stepped back and tossed her head in mischievous fervor.

I leapt up at once and Meleare took a single step back. With each step I took towards her, she parried with an equal step back. I smiled in delight, having missed the way we had once played together.

Launching myself when I thought she would least expect it, I sprinted towards her, arms outstretched.

Meleare whinnied hysterically and galloped around me in a tight circle. I matched her speed and felt my fingers rake past her long mane, her war braids having come undone after the long days of travel.

But Meleare was cunning, and she twisted around and doubled back so that I nearly tripped over my own feet as I chased her.

All the while, Eomer was laughing with genuine entertainment. The sound made me laugh a little, although I wasn't sure why. I did not know the man well at all, and a small portion of me was screaming out in rebellion at being delighted by the sound of another man's amusement.

But when Meleare lunged towards me in offense, I snapped out of my reverie and spun around her. With the speed that often gave my heritage away, I pulled myself up and onto her in mid-canter.

We rode bareback for a minute or so, delighting ourselves with the feel of the wind and moonlight streaking across our faces. We were one in that moment, as we once had been. And in that moment, I realized that war had stolen many more things from me than I might have guessed. I realized then that it had begun to thieve away the last stores of my childhood.

_"Maturity,"_ I told my mare as we rounded back towards the crest, _"is the slow decay into death,"_

_"I agree wholeheartedly,"_ she answered, mirth in her voice and a foal-like cadence in her hoof beats.

I dismounted with grace before Eomer and ran a hand through my windswept hair.

"You are a marvel," he told me. And I smiled.

"I will leave you now," he said, "I wish you a safe watch, Calahdra,"

"Thank you, Marshall,"

"Goodnight," he told me kindly as he turned back towards camp.

"Quel esta," I said, reveling in my passive aggressive farewell.

Eomer shook his head with a chuckle, and he passed over the hill and out of my sight.

I awoke the next morning with Meleare snuffling at my hair. It seemed, I realized with some shame, that I had fallen asleep during the night, having laid my head on Meleare's haunches. She, having curled around me, was unfolding her legs from beneath herself and standing. I clutched at her long mane and blinked a few times in the gloom of dawn.

_"You should have woken me, Meleare. We could have been attacked with a dozing shieldmaiden standing watch,"_

_"Oh, posh,"_ she said, with a mild harrumph. _"You've hardly slept more than six hours in the last four days. No one would have blamed you for having nodded off,"_

_"Well, of course not. They would have been dead,"_

Mel nipped my shoulder as we neared camp. We were not the only ones milling about, for many of the soldiers looked anxious to be off.

I walked to the tent Legolas had pitched the night before and watched silently as he took it down. It appeared that he had no knowledge of my presence, and in that rare moment in which his psyche was concentrated on something other than me, I studied him acutely.

Merely glancing at his back sent shivers down my spine. His shoulders were strong, erect, and yet graceful all at once. His spine was straight, and his vertebrae stacked effortlessly in a very feline way. Muscle upon sinewy muscle struggled against the confines of his tunic. And as my eyes traveled lower, the apples of my cheeks grew warmer.

In that moment, I wanted desperately to run my hands over every inch of him.

When he turned to me, the blood that had been pounding behind my temples suddenly dropped to my feet, leaving me breathless.

"Good morning," he said in a gruff, morning voice. After striding to me, he forcefully, he pulled me to him and ran his lips over mine. The heat returned to my face at once, and an unbridled gasp escaped my encompassed lips.

"My, oh my. You must have missed me very much," I said after he seemed to have gotten his fill.

"Much too much," he agreed, and he leaned in again.

"Legolas?"

I pulled away quickly, and immediately turned away.

Aragorn rounded a tent nearby. "Theoden wishes to speak to you," he said, and he gave me a nod in greeting.

"Very well," my elf said, and I could recognize a drop of disappointment in his voice.

The moment Aragorn's head was out of sight, Legolas and I were entangled once more. His hungry lips and hungry hands devoured my own with a passion that was quite nearly frightening.

I was the one to end his sortie, and I could tell he was both confused and frustrated.

"We must go, love," I reminded him, and placed a quick, final kiss upon his jaw.

Legolas strolled off towards Theoden's tent while I packed away the last of Legolas' things.

Packs in hand, I searched for Arod and deposited my load upon his haunches. After tightening his saddle straps, I caught his muzzle and looked him straight one of his ruddy eyes.

_"You have proven yourself to be a trusty steed for Legolas thus far. Continue that, Arod, and I will be much obliged to you,"_

I felt Arod's recognition press against my mind. He was probably quite alarmed by the sudden invasion of his thoughts, but I had a way of combining both mindspeak and the comfort of the elvish touch in order to convey the meaning of my words to most horses. It was clear to me then that Arod had a deep mental connection with Legolas, for he expressed no outward sign of confusion beyond a single flutter of his silvery lashes.

Meleare nudged me from behind, and snorted at Arod. Arod's nostrils dilated at once, and he stepped back, clearly affronted by my mare's boldness.

"Peace," I said aloud, pressing the word into both their consciences.

Meleare had always had a rather confrontational air about her, and she simply did not get along with the stallions of the Rohirrim, either. It had taken me a long while to teach her to keep her fiery nature at bay, but she often slipped into her old habits when around males of an equally fiery nature.

I watched then as Legolas, Gandalf, Gimli, and Aragorn all exited Theoden's tent, all with somewhat anxious looks upon their faces. Legolas was whispering something in quick elvish to Gandalf, who was nodding every few syllables or so. But as they neared me, Legolas quieted. An awkward silence descended on us as I met he eyes of each individual.

"You have not told her yet, have you, Legolas?" Gandalf said. I watched as Legolas' Adam's apple bobbed once. I cocked an eyebrow up high in response.

"No, I have not," Legolas said dryly.

His companions left him, all with mixed expressions on their faces.

"Legolas?" I asked, quiet with sudden apprehension.

"I will tell you later, meleth. It is a long, long story and it is far too great for me to while we remain so close to the Wizard's Vale,"

"But you will tell me?"

Legolas stopped, his hands freezing on the reigns he was placing on Arod.

"Legolas," I pleaded, not enjoying the sudden anxiety that was gripping my chest.

Legolas turned to me and curled his palm around my temple.

"The tale I have to tell will change everything, Calahdra. You will never be able to look at me in the same way again. And therefore I am loathe to tell you," he turned away, his eyes troubled. "But I will tell you, if you demand it of me,"

I was mute for a moment, but when I noticed the way his hands trembled as he buckled Arod's martingale, I reached out to him with both my hands and my mind.

"Legolas, if I truly wished to know, I could take whatever information I wished from your mind in this moment. But I love you too much to do such a thing. And if you must tell me, then you shall. But I would not force such a thing from you if it pains you so,"

I cradled his hands in mine and willed him to look me in the eyes.

"And know that nothing could change my feelings for you. Even if you told me that you had drowned kittens, I would love you yet,"

A smile came to Legolas' eyes, and as his lips turned upwards, he looked once more at me.

"Do you swear this to me? That no matter what crimes I have committed, even if they are as heinous as suffocating barn cats, you would still hold some regard for me in your heart?"

"It is an oath," I told him, straining to keep my voice even.

"I adore you," he told me, and with a twinkle in his grey-green eyes, he kissed my forehead, "And I shall tell you. But not now. Not while this evil clings overhead," he said with a glance to the sky.

But I felt no such evil. Not with Legolas' hands in mine and Meleare snuffling at my back. In that moment, what had happened to stumble into my life was safe. In that moment, there was nothing to threaten that which I had happened on by chance.


	24. Author's Note

To my lovely readers-  
A year ago, Ever and Ever became my sole passion. It brought more joy to my life than anything I had experienced before. But as of late, I have let it down, and I have let you down. It has been three months since I last posted an update, and for this I am both ashamed and truly apologetic.

The last year has been the most grueling and emotionally exhausting of my entire existence. But summer is here, and I can leave the stress and drama behind me.  
Please bear with me while I revive Ever and Ever. I swear to you that it will be my number one priority for the next two weeks.

Love, Whisper


	25. Chapter 24: Stars

Finally! A chapter for you, my dears! This one took a fair amount of research, because...well, you'll see. I'd like to thank the screenwriters of Lord of the Rings: The Return of The King, for the script, Howard Shore and Renee Fleming, and, as always, JRR Tolkein. Much of the dialogue in this chapter is of their devise, and I take no credit for it.

* * *

Our company moved with haste through the somber trees of Fangorn. It took us some time to mosey through those silent boughs, even with the surprisingly keen mind of Gandalf leading us on.

But I was in no hurry. Despite the anxiety and adrenaline that accompanied meeting the one who had caused my people such great suffering, I was comfortable beneath the lichen and sunbeams that spread between elegant limbs.

But such things do not last forever.

It was Legolas who pulled me from my reverie some two hours into our travels.

"Calahdra, teach me Rohirric," he said to me.

"Why?"

"Because I hear your men speak it all the time about me, and I hate not knowing what they're saying. I'm not use to not knowing a foreign language. I guess I'm spoiled in that way...,"

I smirked. "I'm fluent in five languages. How many have you learned?"

"Five as well. What is that you have not learned?"

"Quenyan. I know that it is a shame, but I cannot pick up the tambour of it. I know enough to read and translate it, but to speak it...," I shook my head.

"Well, I will make you a scholarly offer. You teach me Rohirric, and I shall teach you Quenyan,"

We both agreed that this was a fair deal, and we decided that since he asked first, that I would tutor him first.

"The most important thing to keep in mind when learning Rohirric is that our language was never developed to impress or teach. It is not like Sindarin, or even Westron, in that way. Both of those languages developed from streams of many different native dialects, all culminating into one vast and superfluous stream of language that was used as a means of power. Those who master such languages can only do so if they are wealthy, well-bred, and well-taught.

"Rohan has never cared for such things. We are herdsmen, farm folk. We have no true written history. No single tome depicting our speech. Our legacies are passed through oral tradition. The old ways are held sacred through tongue, not ink,"

"And therefore our language is both simple and powerful. We do not speak unless we have something to say, and when we say it, we add only the cadence, metaphor, and adjectives necessary to convey whatever subject we speak of. Do you follow?"

Legolas looked impressed, but also studious, like a young boy sitting at a table across from his tutor. He nodded, and with a gentle smile, he asked me to continue.

I thought for a moment, not entirely sure of how to continue. I had always been the student in these scenarios, never the teacher. But I was so comfortable with him that I knew that no matter what course I took, he would understand.

"The most powerful words in our language are names. They do not describe nor do they infer importance. Instead, they chronicle a heritage in but a few syllables.

"What then does your name mean? For I thought Tarliyn meant 'red dawn'...," Legolas interrupted.

"It does. That word itself was created in honor of the red dawn. It is not an adjective, nor some noun thrown at some object so that it might be known to man by some name. It is representative of a red dawn. It casts the picture of a red dawn. But it is not the red dawn that the word inspired, nor shall it be any other,"

Legolas looked lost. Terribly, terribly lost. I searched desperately for a different way of describing it.

"Take my true name, for example. Calahdra means 'noble fire'. One day, a man or woman saw a fire that had been started in honor of a great man. It was his funeral pyre, and upon it they saw his ashes. And so, to honor this great man's passing, they named the scene itself 'Calahdra', like the title of a song or a book. Similarly, my father's name is Cahlan. The word 'calhan' means 'the one who starts the fire'. The root, 'calh' obviously means fire, but when used as a name the word is representative of the first man ever to have made a fire. Does this make more sense?"

"Somewhat. So what you're telling me is that names do not represent nouns or adjectives, but rather they represent memories?"

"Precisely," I said.

"Calahdra, you still have not begun to teach me how to actually speak he language," he said.

"I know that," I said, looking deeply into his eyes. "But before you can know the language, you must know what the language means to its people,"

Legolas looked at me for a moment, and then, realization, and even perhaps a bit of humility, came to his eyes.

"I am sorry, Calahdra. I did not know how powerful your speech was,"

"Well, now you know. And now you can begin to learn,"

And so I began to teach him the deep, earthy cadence that was Rohirric. Grammar, definitions, accents, punctuation...all of the things that came so naturally to me as a child were now suddenly quite challenging, both to learn and to teach.

But Legolas learned quickly and with panache, and by the time we had passed through the desert wasteland and had entered the last thicket of trees before we reached the gates of Isengard, he had progressed rapidly in his learning of the language.

When we finally reached the Wall of Isengard, no such wall remained. The jagged shards and splinters of the once great fortress jutted out from the flooded remnants of the city. The sight of such ruin almost made me pity the broken abode of Saruman the White, but such emotion would not come to fruition.

And yet among all of the wreckage and devastation was a sight as foreign to my eyes as it was gleeful.

Two tiny men, one dozing and the other smoking, sat atop a boulder once part of the wall. About their muddy frames was a wide array of meats, fruits, and drinks.

Our entire company froze as they were confronted with the sight. The silence that followed was palpable...until the smoking one sprung to his feet.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he exclaimed, snapping an arm behind him to gesture at the tower of Orthanc.

Gimli, mouth agape, shook his head in wonder from behind Legolas. "You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and...and smoking!"

The sleeping one, having stirred, now sat and stared at Gimli with a look of benevolent satisfaction upon his face. "We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" the dwarf murmured. Beside him, Gandalf muttered what sounded like an angry curse.

Theoden prodded Snowmane forward. "May I ask, young masters, exactly who you are?"

"I, my lord, am Meriadoc Brandybuck. And this here," he said with a kick to the smaller one's shoulder, "is Peregrin Took. We're under orders, from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," he explained.

"And where is Treebeard, Merry?" Gandalf asked. I looked at the wizard with incredulity. How had they met? Were they close friends? And what was this 'merry hunt' Gimli had spoken of?

"Beneath the great tower," Pippin said whilst shoving a few strips of meat and a hunk of bread into his jacket.

Gandalf bid them down, and the two were hoisted up onto the backs of Eomer's steed, Firefoot, and Shadowfax. Together, our company pushed beyond the crumbling gate of Isengard and waded into the flooded courtyard.

Legolas brought Arod up beside me and reached out to me, brushing my leather brace with his hand.

"They were taken from us by a group of Urukai," he whispered. "We ran for many leagues after them, for they were all that was left of our fellowship. We thought them to be dead not a week ago. To see them alive is a merry sight indeed,"

"Legolas, a child could have inferred that," I said, my anger spewing forth in a murmured hiss. "What is this fellowship you speak of? What is this quest that seems to hold such an air of secrecy? Am I not trust worthy enough to know such things? Or has it simply slipped your mind that I might care at all for your secrets when I have given forth all of mine?"

Legolas merely stared at me, blinked once, and then turned and shook his head.

"I forget your temper for but a moment and it strikes me like a snake,"  
And with that, he and a silent Gimli fell back amongst the other soldiers.

By then, a great wooden mass had happened upon us. Its eyes were what proved to me that it was one of the creatures we had seen two nights before. Great globes of a somber flame dwelt within the knotty compounds of its face.

"Huraroom ... Young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to be managed here ... Locked in his tower," the great Shepard said.

Aragorn, having neared me, growled impatiently, "Show yourself,"

"Be, careful. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous," Gandalf said to us all, looking warily at the great tower.

"Let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli grumbled from behind us. I turned to see him fidgeting with his axe behind Legolas, who was staring blankly at the tower abroad.

"No," Gandalf murmured, quietly enough that I was sure only one other set of ears could hear it besides my own, "We need him alive. We need him to talk,"

A moment of silence passed, and the horses shifted with trepidation as an evil descended upon us from the highest spires of the tower. Saruman's voice followed this malice like a wake.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden king. And made peace afterwards. Can we not take council together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

There was a moment of silence. The men in the vanguard seemed to sway, as if they enjoyed the sound of peace more than any thought of revenge. Even I, for a moment, imagined turning back and allowing Theoden to parlay with the wicked sorcerer in the hopes that we would not have to confront him ever again. And for a little while, at least, I feared that Theoden, too, would sway once more under the poison of Saruman's powers.

It was Eomer, now close to the right of Theoden, who spoke out. "Lord, hear me! Now we feel the peril that we were warned of. Have we ridden forth to victory, only to stand at last amazed by an old liar with honey on his forked tongue? Remember Theodred at the Fords, and the grave of Hama in Helm's Deep!"

Saruman turned upon Eomer with fury in his brow. "If we speak of poisoned tongues, what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" said Saruman, "But come Eomer, Eomund's son! To every man his part. Valor in arms is yours, and you win high honor thereby. Meddle not in policies which you do not understand. But maybe, if you become king, you will find that he must choose his friends with care,"

My temper flared once more as Saruman disparaged Eomer, who one day would be my charge as Theoden would.

"Speak not of friends or foes, wizard!" I cried, meeting the liar's eyes. "It matters not what Eomer's title may be or may become. To every man, every woman, every child of our country, you are an enemy. We, as a people, hold you with naught more than the same countenance as an arsonist of life,"

"Speak not to me, whore!" Saruman spat at me, "What title is it that you hold that gives you freedom to speak at a council of kings and men,"

I fell silent once more, my teeth grinding with such a passion that I could not hear the noise of Meleare's feet as they angrily pawed at the water.

"So tell me, Theoden, what say you of this peace we might set to weave?"

"We shall have peace," Theoden murmured, his voice wavering with such emotion that I wished to reach out to him. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace,"

If it had not been for the eerie dark radiating from the eyes of the wizard now peering down at us, I would have cheered. But instead, only a silent bath of hatred washed over the heads of the soldiers and me now staring at the murder who had so elegantly raped our people.

"Gibbets and crows...," Saruman growled, "Doubter! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess, the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the keys of Barad-dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel!"

"So you have come here for information? I have some for you," From the white sleeve of the wizards robe rolled a single black orb, no larger than a melon. And as the wizards fingers caressed its marbled surface, a red spark grew from its middle, alighting the orb in a sinister flame.

In my mind, a single, fearsome eye burned as it whispered my name, along with all the names of those it wished to destroy. My soul splintered for but a moment and Meleare snorted as she felt my body fall forward in single tremor.

"Something festers in the heart of middle earth. Something that you have failed to see. The Great Eye has seen it. Even now, he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon,"

As I raised my head, I saw the honesty in the madman's eyes. "You are all going to die,"

In the moment of silence afterwards, I relayed my status to him. I was careful to do nothing more than graze his consciousness with my own as I passed on my titles and my accomplishments. I felt that then was the time to prove to him that I was indeed a sorceress and a protector of my people and that I would see no such fate come to them.

"Ahh," he said, straightening a little, "Calahdra, daughter of Calhan. You are the one they call Tarilyn, the red dawn. The fury of Rohan, the siren of her people, Shieldmaiden, even, to whatever vagrant claims title to the throne.

"And here it is that we find the greatest liar of the lot! You are nothing. You are filth. You are no star, rising upon the crimson dawn. You are a shard of glass that cracks as it sits in the night sky while all else turns about the sun. You are the mangled mess of two races doomed to die. A mutt. No goddess, no warrior, nor even a sorceress. You are a vagabond bitch meant only for death and despair. You shall rot in the heavens, Tarilyn," Saruman spat, "and you shall drag all whom you love into the abyss with you. And that, like all stars, is how you shall perish,"

My grip upon the hilt of my sword lessened with each one of his words.

For the things he said to me echoed many of my own thoughts.

"Such council you keep, my old friend. Orphans and outcasts all impregnated with the thought that they might stand a chance against the evil that will devour them. But you know this, don't you Gandalf?" Saruman's eyes turned to Aragorn, "You cannot think that this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned King,"

The look in Aragorn's eyes was one of blatant disregard. He met Saruman's eyes with pride, and with a clenched jaw. The wizard, perhaps seeing this challenge as a true threat, turned his attention to Gandalf.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to love. Tell me? What words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom? For the path that you have set him in can only lead to death,"

"I've heard enough!" Gimli growled. "Shoot him," I heard Gimli then whisper to Legolas, who drew an arrow in agreement.

"No! Come down Saruman! And your life will be spared,"

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!"

A great wave of flame descended from the tower unto Gandalf. I gasped and Meleare leapt back. I feared the worst until I realized that Gandalf was well, and that he had repelled the shell of certain death.

"Saruman," Gandalf cried as the flames dispersed, "Your staff is broken,"

And so it was, splintering in Saruman's hand at once. Behind him, a dark figure approached.

"Grima!" Theoden called out, recognizing the figure before I. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan!"

Grima shook his head in fear, as if tempted but unwilling to risk the reactions of others besides the king.

"A man of Rohan?" Saruman hissed, "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn were brigands drink in the reek while their brats roll on the floor with the dogs. The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse-Master! You are a lesser son of greater sires,"

Theoden's patience proved to be far greater than my own. He took a deep breath and looked back again at Grima, who shriveled behind Saruman with each passing second. "Grima, come down. Be free of him,"

"Free?" Saruman roared, "He will never be free,"

"No," Grima mouthed, and he walked towards Theoden, rounding Saruman.

"Get back! Cur!" Saruman said, and then slapped Wormtongue like a child.

"Saruman! You were deep in the enemy's council!" Gandalf repeated, panic now in his voice upon seeing the rising madness of Saruman's disposition, "Tell us what you know!"

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!"

And suddenly, Saruman slumped over. Grima, having finally lost the will to follow his slave master, had planted a dagger savagely in the wizard's back.

Legolas let fly a single arrow, which landed firmly in Wormtongue's heart.

But Saruman fell, tumbling over and over until he was speared on the spoke of a wayward mill. The gruesome sight brought forth moans and grimaces from the two hobbits, as well as a shocked sigh from me.

Gandalf spoke quickly, seemingly unaffected by the wizard's violent death. "Send words to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike,"

Theoden did as Gandalf bid, and called forth three riders. "Send word to the outer fiefs. Tell them to ready their guards and messengers,"

I noticed that Theoden said nothing of alerting our allies. But if Gandalf took note of it, he said nothing.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard said, ignoring any talk of war and instead expressing his own nonchalant sentiment on the death of the murderer.

A splash caught my attention, and I turned to see Pippin wading towards a shimmer nearby.

"Well bless my bark!" Treebeard exclaimed as Pippin raised a dark globe from the murky floodwater.

"Peregrin Took! I'll take that, my lad!" Gandalf said, holding out his hand to the globe as Shadowfax neared the small figure. "Quickly, now!"

Silently, our company exited the floodwaters, but only after Gandalf whispered explanations to several Ents that had chosen to show themselves after Saruman's death. Back through the Fangorn and over the desert we traveled.

The silence continued until later that evening, when we set up camp once again at the same spot as the night previously.

I crouched nearby the river and washed my face. The icy droplets that skipped down my back cleared some of my fatigue, and a feeling of mock peace settled over me.  
With a sigh, I stood only to be caught by a pair of iron arms.

My immediate reaction was to turn away, but I fell limp into the embrace.

"You are utterly spent," Legolas said to me.

"I have never felt worse in my entire life,"

Carefully, Legolas lifted me into his arms as he often did and carried me beneath several trees on the outermost border of the Fangorn. I stared deeply into the bath of stars now swathing us.

Legolas rolled his arm around my waist and pulled himself to me. I hid my face beneath his jaw and let only one eye peer up at the sky.

"I ngîl cennin erthiel. Ne menel aduial, ha glingant be vîr, síliel moe," I whispered to him.

He frowned, and ran a single finger through my hair.

"The second verse is not so optimistic," he murmured.

"No. But it is beautiful nonetheless,"

Legolas smiled, and wrapped his hand in mine. "No matter how many times we are like this," he said, squeezing my fingers as he brought them to his lips, "it never spoils,"

"That is the way of love," I said.

"It is also the way of hate," I looked at him quizzically. "Hatred lasts forever, too. And it eats away at a person's soul, much like how love builds a person up,"

I looked away.

"I am full of so much hate," I murmured.

"I know," he answered.

The stars, upon their eternal canvas, remained mute.

* * *

"I ngîl cennin erthiel  
Ne menel aduial,  
Ha glingant be vîr  
Síliel moe."

translates to:

"I saw a star rise high in the  
Evening sky,  
It hung like a jewel,  
Softly shining."

-Twilight and Shadow, by Howard Shore and sung by Renee Fleming


	26. Chapter 25: Dream

_The sword was pressed into my hands with little warning._

"He wished for you to have this. Those were his last words," Aldor said to me.

"My daughter cannot have a long sword! She is but fifteen summers old! A child yet!"

"It was Cahlan's wish, Erdolliel,"

My mother collapsed, for the third time, upon the settee. No one raced to her side or gasped this time, however. She put a hand to her forehead as if she had some sort of fever and looked despondently out the window of the parlor room.

"Calahdra, leave us," she said to me.

I remained rooted to the spot.

"Calahdra, are you deaf? Leave us be!"

I could not move. Nor could I see. Nor could any other sense of mine seem to register within my mind.

Ninety minutes.

Ninety minutes had passed since Aldor had told me what had transpired. With tears in his own eyes, he described the attack, the fire, the fall of the club upon the back of my father's neck. The sickening howl that barely escaped his mouth as his brain stem was brutalized.

"It is likely," Aldor said, with a hand upon my shoulder, "That he shall never wake again,"

I had stared into his eyes. A preternatural peace settled over me as I thought upon the consequences of his news.

"Huor? Lenwe? Have they been told?"

"Messengers have been sent to the known camps of the Rohirrim,"

"What of the second company? What of Barhime's men?"

"They have been told,"

"And…and Taros? What of Ada's horse?" I asked.

"He was unhurt,"

A silence fell upon us as the question I most loathed to ask bubbled up in both our throats.

"Naneth," Was all I could manage.

"Her reaction…," Was Aldor's contribution. We looked into one another's eyes.

"Calahdra," Aldor said to me, and carefully, as he though I was made of glass, he took me into his arms.

I did not return the embrace, nor did I say anything. It was then, when the first ounce of sympathy for my father's loss was tossed my way that the paralysis began.

And now, as Nana began to wail my name and throw various cushions at my head, the numb began to fade.

"She has lost her father, Erdolliel. She is in shock! Give her some peace. Some time!" Aldor was shouting.

"You whore! Leave! Leave me be!" She had crossed the room by now, and was striking my forehead with the flat of her hand.

Aldor had her by her waist, and a servant had her by the forearms.

"Erdolliel! Stop this!"

"YOU USELESS GIRL! Leave me be! LEAVE ME BE!"

A warmth had settled into my finger tips. The contrasting temperature of Mearling began to awaken some rationalization within my mind.

"Ever have you been but a tumor upon my name…a leech upon what little life I still have!"

I met my mother's eyes.

"A foul excuse for a daughter! The bane of my very existence!"

I could feel a dull throb in my temple. A heartbeat behind my ears.

"If I had had it my way, you would have been sent away the moment you were born….,"

"Stop this, Erdolliel. You speak lies!" Aldor said, now pulling her away across the room.

"NO! Let me speak to her! Let me tell her what she is," And with a screech, she struck my father's second in command across the temple. She raced back to me.

And as she neared, the last traces of ice left my thoughts.

I stood, and with a solid intent, I raised Mearling to its full height.

The room was still at once.

"Calahdra, lower the blade…," It was Aldor who spoke, but he did not move.

"If my leave is what you wish for, mother, then so be it. Send me away to some place I shall never return from. Whether it is the battlefield, or across the sea, or a cage…I care not,"

"It will be done. Trust me in this, daughter," she spat the word like a curse, "For I have no need of your worthlessness anymore,"

I stared blankly at the sky, now glossed with tones of primrose and citrus as the sun rose.

Reliving memories was never pleasant.

Especially when they came upon you as dreams…dreams that you could not simply shake away or replace with some other memory.

Never before had I dreamed such a scene in full, with every event and detail a perfect replica of the actual event.

Now, having done so, my stomach felt as though it had been blended with hot coals in a mixing bowl full of tar.

I breathed deep, attempting to belay the feeling. But even the crisp air of morning could not wash away the mental bruises now pulsing in my every vein.

A while passed before I was disturbed.

When I was, it was the sound of a splash nearby in the river that forced upon my dosing eyelids.

One of the hobbits was washing his face.

"Good morning," I said to him, as he opened his eyes.

"My, I did not even see you there! You were so still…like an elf, almost,"

I smiled at this.

"But good morning to you, indeed," he said, "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all," I said, patting the earth beside me while I drew my sword from across my lap to my other side.

"I must admit," I said as he sat, "that I cannot remember your name, little master,"

"Merry, my lady. Merry Brandybuck,"

"Well, it is good to meet you, Merry. And I am Calahdra Medlinniel,"

"Are you? The men in the camp were calling you by another name, last evening. One I couldn't quite pronounce…,"

"Tarilyn?"

"Yes, that was it. Tar…Tarellin,"

I laughed heartily.

"Calahdra is probably easier for you to pronounce, at any rate,"

Merry nodded.

"Tell me, though. Why is it that a lady rides with these soldiers? And why is it that they have nicknames for you?"

"I am a Shieldmaiden. A guard of the King. And my deeds have been deemed great enough that I have earned Tarilyn as a title,"

Merry nodded, although a hint of doubt still lingered in his eyes.

"But tell me of yourself, master Merry. For I have never heard of your folk before or their deeds. Certainly you have tales to tell,"

Merry shook his head, and his dirty curls fell across his face. "My people have no heroes, my lady, nor do we even have a king to guard. We are farmers and blacksmiths and carpenters. A plain folk who know little of war,"

"That seems like a dream to me, for I have known war all my life," I told him with all honesty. The thought of living in a realm of peace and simplicity was so foreign to me that I had trouble even picturing it.

"That's too bad," Merry said sadly.

I nodded, silent for a moment as I still attempted to grasp the concept of a world without war.

Of course, wasn't a world without war the ultimate goal? Wasn't that what I was fighting for?

It was my sole purpose, certainly…

But then…when the war was ended and there was no more enemy blood left to spill, what would my purpose be?

If a person's single purpose for existence was to destroy that of others, did they even deserve a second life?

"My lady?" Merry asked, his hand now resting on mine. Genuine concern painted his brow.

"I'm sorry, Merry. I think you posed…a very personal dilemma for me to ponder," I said to him. With another shake of my head, I stood.

Merry stood as well, and I was amused to see that his head reached no further than my shoulder.

"I smell breakfast," Merry said, his mood suddenly cheerful. I looked in the direction of camp and saw smoke rising.

"Indeed. Bacon, it smells like," I said with a scowl.

"You don't like bacon?" Merry asked, almost offended in his tone of voice.

"Not at all. I very seldom enjoy partaking in any kind of meat,"

"That's absurd! Only elves dislike….," He then halted in his hasty trek towards the camp. He seemed to appraise me, staring up into my eyes, looking at my ears. And then he spied the jewels about my neck.

"You're not an elf, are you?"

"A hint of one,"

"A hint of an elf," Merry said, and then he laughed. "I don't feel so out of place, after all,"

"Now, be kind, Merry. I hope it's not in the nature of hobbits to question the comings and goings of other folk,"

"Oh, it's not in the nature of hobbits to question much of anything…but to think I left Lothlorien with the thought that I would never see another elf –save Master Legolas, mind you- again in my life, only to find you!"

"You've been to Lothlorien?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh, yes. And it was quite beautiful. Very…mystical. Otherworldly, even"

I bowed my head, quiet.

"My kin are from Lothlorien, Merry. And it seems as though everyone I meet had been there but I. Every stranger to happen across my path has visited the one place I most long to visit,"

"Well, mind you Calahdra, many of us went together. I assume you speak of Gandalf and Strider and Legolas and Gimli…and we were all there at the same time,"

"You were?"

Merry looked as if he had been stung by some sort of insect.

"I'm not sure I was supposed to tell you that…,"

"Are you speaking of the 'Fellowship' or such that keeps being rumored about?"

Merry's lips were pressed together in a hard line, as if he was struggling quite hard to say nothing at all.

I sighed. "Very well. You can keep your secrets from me as well,"

"I wish I could tell you, Calahdra. I really wish I could. But Gandalf and Master El…Gandalf threatened Pippin and I with all sorts of hideous maladies should we let slip any mention of our tale,"

I laughed a little, "And we wouldn't want that, would we? Gandalf's wrath would certainly have ill affects on a pair of hobbits,"

"You have no idea," Merry said with all seriousness.

By then we had reached the source of Merry's excitement. Aragorn was bent over a pan, and in it was a variety of things that had put a rather large grin on the hobbit's face.

"Quel amrun, Calahdra," he said upon seeing me.

"Quel amrun," I sat beside Gimli, who was dosing still.

"Man sâd Legolas?"

"Lostol," I told him as he handed me an apple and a hunk of bread. "Hannon le,"

"Oh, stop," Gimli grumbled, apparently now awake. "They're just showing off, Merry. Don't pay them any mind,"

I rolled my eyes at the dwarf and stood once more.

"My lady?"

I turned to the voice of a soldier.

"Theoden wishes for your presence," I nodded to the man and bid my breakfasting friends goodbye.

I found Theoden with Eomer, and the two were packing and reminiscing on some hunt they had partaken in long ago. The sight of the uncle and nephew speaking informally on some subject entirely outside of the topic of war warmed my heart. The moment I was spotted, however, their casual dispositions changed.

Eomer gave me a salute, and turned to pack in silence.

"Calahdra, I have a task for you," Theoden said to me. "I wish for you to ride ahead of our party and tell Eowyn of our coming. She will have arrived in Meduseld by now and will surely be planning some feast or banquet. And I know for a fact that Meleare and yourself are the swiftest of all the riders I have in my possession,"

"Very well, my lord,"

"Be swift, Calahdra," Theoden said, now rounding his bedroll and taking me by the shoulder, "But more importantly, be safe,"

"Of course," I told him, looking into his fatherly eyes.

And so I set out.

I returned to the woods in which Legolas and I had slept with anxiety bubbling up within me like I had never felt before. I know the way to Meduseld…in fact, I knew the fastest ways to Meduseld, for I had traveled them many times. But to travel them alone was something I had not experienced before.

The moment I reached the eaves of the woods, a hand snared both my waist and my mouth.

"How did you manage to slip away?"

"Very sneakily…," I told my captor, before tickling him in the ribs.

Legolas leapt away with a chuckle, but upon seeing my dull expression, he quieted.

"You're leaving?"

"Theoden wishes it. He wants me to alert Meduseld of our coming,"

Legolas stood before me, staring at his feet. Slowly, he met my eyes.

"Be safe," he said, and he kissed my brow.

"Just like that, you're letting me go? No fight?" I asked, surprised at him.

"No…," Legolas shook his head at me. "I had a dream. A dream that you fell not by the hand of an enemy, but by my own…,"

Concerned, I took his hand.

"I had lectured you to death…,"

A dry laugh escaped my lips. "I doubt that…,"

Legolas was quiet, though, and my concern returned.

"You lecture me because you love me…I know that. Besides, something as silly as an argument could not get the best of me…,"

Legolas shook his head. "Certainly not," and a smile returned to his eyes.

"Now go, and be safe. May the Valar keep you, my love,"

I nodded once, kissed his cheek, and left before I could change my mind.


	27. Chapter 26: Faith

Meleare galloped swiftly into the southeast. And I, having left most of my possessions with Legolas, eagerly accepted her breakneck pace. She was, of course, the greatest long-distance horse in all of Fenmarch.

I smiled at the memory that encompassed the thought.

Of course, amid siblings there is always some amount of competition. Between my brothers and me, competition was perhaps the only thing between us. They were my mother's favorites, and they gloated in the fact that her hatred of me was as clear as dawn. But my father undoubtedly loved me best. This, of course, was source enough for contempt.

And when Meleare came into my life, my brothers correctly identified my father's gifting of her as a symbolization of his idolatry for me. They themselves had had to purchase their own war horses, and the cost of a war horse is no small thing.

They made it their single goal to prove to me the inadequacy of my horse.

And so a series of races began between me and them. Huor nearly always lost to me in short distance races, for his horse was rather old. But Lenwe's steed, Fealoch, was undoubtedly one of the fastest sprinters ever to have graced the earth.

Of my brothers, Lenwe was the one I had been closest too. Despite what he had done to me, he was of course my brother; I had little choice but to push back the atrocities he was responsible for and endure him.

And endure him, I did. For every day I would race and race and race, pushing Meleare far beyond the limits of the average horse. And every day he would beat me.

Slowly, I did lose faith in Meleare. My ability to mind speak with her was born in my frustration with her. And before she had ever gained the ability to speak back, I had scarred her with so many curses, jeers, and insults that I was never sure as to how she came to forgive me.

It was at my father's suggestion that I attempt to race her cross-country.

And so, on a mild April day, Meleare and I beat the unbeatable Fealoch in a four league circuit by six minutes.

Huor and Lenwe never questioned my mare's talents again.

Three years had passed since that day, and now Meleare and I rode cross country not in a race, but in a true, military test of our skill.

_"How do you fair, my dear?"_

"Well. But I could go for a good belly massage, just now. Or maybe a peck of carrots," Meleare said, and I could find no trace of fatigue in her voice.

_"Ha-ha,"_ was my retort, but I truly was amused. I had always thought that sarcasm was a sign of intelligence, and her ever increasing intelligence never ceased to impress me.

I looked out over the passing landscape and sighed. All about us were great fields of golden grass and mud flats. It was quite plain if you looked only just around you, but if you broadened your gaze, the sight was breathtaking.

Great mountains rose up out of the horizon, and rivers, like serpents, twisted through the amber valleys of our lands. Here and there were fiefs of thatched grass and hard-earned wood. Amid the rustic buildings were throngs of shrieking, playful children. And flocks of various, lazing animals spread themselves over all of this.

Rohan, in its simplicity, was marvelous.

Meleare and I stopped for but a little while in such a fief for water and some oats. The stable master, as were all the townsfolk, was wary of us at first. But the moment I gave my name, smiles spread across the faces of all who gathered before us.

"Please," said the owner of the single inn, "let us treat you to a mug of ale,"

"Or come have dinner with my family," said a different man.

Several more offers for food and drink arose from the crowd of twenty now assembled before the stable.

"I wish I could accept all your offers, but I cannot tarry. I must reach Meduseld before dawn," I told them, secretly delighting in the ability to speak raw Rohirric.

"That is a long way indeed!" said the stable master, who gave his name has Goff. "Let me treat your steed to a meal while you rest, at least,"

"That would be quite appreciated," I told him, and Meleare was led away.

I sat on the hay outside the barn, and smiled as children began to join me. Some of the adults began to break away, but many stayed.

"Please, Tarilyn, tell us of what news you know," said a woman.

And so I told the people of the battle of Helm's Deep –censoring most of it for the children's sake- and of Saruman's part in the matter. And I told them too of the Hobbits I had met and my impression of them. At the latter, I received many gasps and many more questions.

"Are they enemy or friend to Rohan?"

"What color is their skin?"

"Can they ride horses?"

"How old do they live to be?"

And I answered the questions as best I could, all the while laughing inside that Hobbits could capture more enthusiasm than tales of war could.  
Twenty minutes later, and after being brought a good deal of food and drink, all of which I tasted simply out of politeness, Meleare was brought back to me.

I found her to be in good spirits, for some of the children who had disappeared had brushed her down and redone her braids while she had eaten.

I thanked the people of village of Toldon for their hospitality and I bid them safety and good harvests.

Meleare and I rode hard for another four hours. By the time her steps began to slow, I too felt the affects of our journey set in.

We stopped upon the banks of a shallow stream and drank our fill. I sighed as the crystalline liquid trickled down into my collar and over my back. Never had I felt as sore or misused as I did then.

But the discomfort…the chafing, the cramps, the bruises, and the still healing cuts I had on my calf, collar, and forehead…all such injuries began to fade as the moon rose above. I closed my eyes and reopened them to stare at the sky.

Ithil glowed with benevolent warmth, and the stars began to shine ever brighter. A great gasp grew within me as I beheld the vastness of the constellations, all centered about Alcarinquë. A glimmering expanse of Varda's heros and heroines gloriously basked in their nocturnal grave.

The elf in me cried out, and the stars seemed to call back. 'Perhaps,' I thought, 'they are silent only if you choose not to listen,'

And so, in penance for my faithlessness and despair, I sang out to them. My hand clutching at my small replica of one of Fanuilos' many gifts, I cried out to the heavens.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath!"

The wind seemed to curl up around the fields in answer, and the gust was strong enough that Meleare even raised her head from her frenzied eating and looked about. Upon seeing me, she came to me and rested her head on my shoulder. The tears in my eyes fell forward.

_"I was spiritual once. I thought that the Valar might pay me some mind, what with my situation. But they did nothing, Meleare. And I forgot them as I thought they had forgotten me," _

I looked back to Alcarinquë and placed my hand over my heart. "Goheno nin,"

For a moment I stood silent, and Meleare followed suit. When the passing minutes leeched the emotion from our souls and left only the reminder of our task, we trekked on.

_"Ada, tell me of Lorien! Please?"_

My father gave me a hesitant smile, and merely shook his head in silence as he always did. My begging had become a practiced skill, but my father's continued refusal was an art form.

"You know I cannot tell you, Cal. I was forbidden," He said in the most serious of all his humorous tones.

"I know you were forbidden. But why_ were you forbidden?" By now, I had jumped from my haystack and was tugging at his riding breeches._

"Because Lothlorien is a very well guarded place, Calahdra, and its secrets are not to be shared the world of men,"

Carefully, my father pushed me away, watchful to keep a bit of distance between myself and Taros.

"But I am not a man," I murmured, turning away. Even at the age of six and as the daughter of an incorrigible warlord, I knew when I had lost a fight.

I heard my father sigh, and he turned and set me on his hip with a groan.

"You are not a man at all. You are a woman_, and therefore, you, like all women," he said with a jab to my chest, "are impossible to satisfy,"_

I giggled and tugged my fingers through his prickly beard, "But I'm not a woman either, Ada. I am an elf. An elleth,"

My father's face paled and his smile faded.

"A piece of you is, Calahdra. A chunk,"

He looked into my eyes, his brown irises contrasting sharply with my own.

"But then again, I always wonder…is a child truly half and half, or are they whatever the Gods wish for them to be? For your mother…your mother shines within you, my daughter. And whether that is for the better or the worse, I shall never reckon…,"

I certainly had no idea of what he spoke, and instead busied myself with the unbraiding of his goatee.

"You'll have to redo that, you know. I'm no good at braiding...That's what Erdolliel is for," my father said, his attention having been pulled back to the present.

"I could braid Taros' tail," I told him, staring at the great equine from between my beloved Ada's legs.

"You think so?" he asked me.

I nodded, but hesitantly, for I had never been allowed to so much as pat Taros before.

My father studied me for a long while, looking deep into my eyes once more.

"Well, let us see if that elf really does shine through, for all animals have some love for your mother's kin, do they not? I have faith in you…"

I wasn't sure why he kept bringing elves back into the conversation…all I wanted then was to play with my father's great pony.

And I got my wish. Ada had held me up to look Taros in the eyes and had lifted my palm up to the stallion's nose. I had giggled mightily when the horse attempted to nibble my hand, or, as my father had said, 'gobble up my entire arm'. And I set to my braiding merrily after my father built me a stool of hay bales behind the horse…for all of four minutes. My attention span at six lasted about as long as my mother's temper could be held at bay.

And for a time, my days held much the same pattern. I learned of the elves and of Lothlorien through my own study, and my skill with horses grew infinitely within several years. But eventually, war dissolved the ease of childhood.

Ada would leave for months at a time. No word would come on his behalf…merely vague reports of the enemies' atrocities. And my prayers to the Valar took one of two tones: desperation, or bitterness.

When my prayers were not returned, I fled the faith I had had.

And then the day came when my prayers were answered. The day came when my father returned home for good….

The sudden incline was what awoke me. Meleare's footsteps became shorter and far more labored as she began to climb the hill to Edoras.

_"You should have awoken me, Mel!"_

"Oh, shush. You hardly sleep anymore, Calahdra. I thought you'd be pleased with my gift,"

I was quiet, for she was right. Whatever rest I could gather was a rather delicious commodity to reap.

Looking at the sky, I judged that we had about two hours before daybreak. I patted Meleare's flank. _"You are a wonder, my dear,"_

My horse merely snorted, and I could tell that her mood was fouling as exhaustion began to creep up on her as well.

At the city gate, I was stopped by a very bewildered guardsman.

"Who goes there?" the man asked, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw me and gasped. "My lady!"

"I come with word of the King. Please, let me pass,"

"Certainly," he said, and pulled the gate aside at once. As Meleare and I entered the city, I heard him whisper to his awoken colleague. "She looked like something out of a legend, what with the moon in her hair and her cloak all about her!"

I smiled and pressed Meleare onwards. The thought of a warm bed suddenly called to me with a magnetic howl.

I saw to it myself that Meleare was stabled comfortably, not wanting to wake anyone else. I delighted in the muffled whinnies of horses who they themselves were not yet fully awake, and took some time to send each of them back to sleep with a song or a poem. My father had been right. A few verses of a Sindarin hymn, or even a drop of my ill-pronounced Quenya could capture the heart of any creature.

And when I reached the Golden Hall, I was not surprised at all to find Eowyn just inside, eager to hear of her Uncle.

"They should arrive by midmorning tomorrow, at the rate they were traveling. They had several more messages to send and such, you see…,"

"Well, of course!" Eowyn replied. "Not to mention that not one of those men or horses has had a proper rest since the battle! And neither then have you,"

"And neither have I," I agreed, and took my leave with a rather forced smile.

Upon entering my quarters, I stripped my cloak and sword aside, and pulled my chest plate over my head. My clothing was blindly and unceremoniously scattered about my room until I wore naught but a pair of leggings. And within a single breath after lying upon my bed, I fell deeply asleep.


	28. Chapter 27: Family

This chapter, like the past two, delves into Calahdra's past. Following this chapter in the End Notes are a few points I hope you'll take note of. Please enjoy :)

* * *

_If a person's single purpose for existence was to destroy that of others, did they even deserve a second life?_

My hand curled about the tassels tied loosely to the edges of my pillow.

_Calahdra Medlinniel._ A white horse running towards the unknown, fleeing from its past, rushing into battle. A symbol of Rohan.

_Calahdra Medlinniel._ A single name written in red, born of two races, of two heritages, of two lands. A heroine of three quarters of her kin.

_Calahdra Medlinniel._ An icon, a figurehead, a name. Written in the color of blood, above the epitome of freedom and innocence.

Tied to a background of endless blue with the very substance it was made of. A breakable, moldable substance that had no more significance than the fibers it itself was spun from.

A sharp knock upon my door finally jarred me awake.

"A moment," I called, simultaneously whipping a tunic over my head.

A rather scruffy messenger boy was waiting for me. "You have a visitor, my lady. He awaits you in Meduseld, in the East parlor room,"

"Did he give a name?" I asked.

The boy shook his head.

"Odd. Well, thank you,"

The boy remained even when I moved to close the door. It was then that I noticed the circles beneath his eyes and the state of his clothing.

I sighed and snatched several copper coins from my dressing table. "For food," I told him sternly.

"Yes, of course, my lady," and with a bow of his head, he left.

I dressed in my only remaining clean tunic and a pair of ragged riding breeches, all the while haphazardly throwing my dirty or torn clothes in a pile upon my trunk. When my good knife was hooked to my belt and my boots were laced I finally dared to look in my mirror, only to grimace at the reflection.

My hair honestly looked as though it wished to consume my head, and I had never seen more dirt on any living creature's surface than my own. I scrubbed violently until the mud was gone, but the bruises beneath could not be undone…nor could the scar upon my head be covered up. And my hair was tossed into a high horsetail that was possibly as unfashionable as could be.

I couldn't smile at the new face before me, but I could at least leave my room.

I chastised myself severely when, upon entering the courtyard outside my quarters, I realized I had slept until mid-afternoon. My stomach, too, was quite unhappy with my slovenliness.

But food would have to wait, for I had a visitor. A nameless, rather unsought for visitor who had resorted to hiring a needy street urchin as his messenger.

Upon entering Meduseld, I was greeted by many men whom I did not know. It seemed that my fame would take some getting used to.

And when an entire tray of lunch foods was brought to me by a maid, I realized that it was going to take a _great deal_ of getting used to.

"Just an apple, thank you," I told her, plucking a rather large, green fruit from the tray.

"Are you sure, my lady? I was told you would be famished…,"

"Well, certainly. But I have a visitor. Could I sneak into the kitchens after, perhaps?" I asked, letting my tone lilt into the street cadence I reserved solely for my friends in the city.

The woman smiled and nodded, "Tell them Kelas sent you,"

I bid her thanks, but was consumed with a skewed sense of guilt as I walked away. Since when had I become an equal to royalty? Or rather, when had those I had once been equal to suddenly fall to a lower status than I? For I had done little more than fight. Like any other soldier, I had had my part to play.

A different voice, one that was a hint snider than all the others called out a different question; "Why couldn't you have been treated with this regard from the start?"

But I shoved that voice back into its place, fearful of becoming too spoiled in my new role.

By then, I had reached the place of my meeting, and I knocked on the great doors of the parlor with some hesitation.

The door was opened, and I stepped inside. Before me, lounging on a chaise in front of the fireplace was Huor.

My eldest brother was my nameless visitor.

He appraised me for a moment in silence, perhaps a little surprised at my appearance. But then he got up and came to me, his arms spread wide as if to hail me.

"Calahdra. I have missed you, sister,"

And he embraced me…something he had never done before.

"Huor," I returned, a catch in my throat suddenly twitching as his body enfolded mine.

When he pulled away, he did so only for a moment before catching my face in his hands and looking over me, as if I required his inspection.

It was then that I realized we had an audience.

It was then that I realized he was merely acting.

"You look as though you've seen more peaceful days, little sister," he announced with a chuckle.

"I have," I responded. "We all have,"

"That is very true. Come, join me," He motioned to the sofa he had been lazing on.

I did join him, but I was careful to maintain a more military stance than he had. Across a low table from myself and Huor was Barhime, a Marshal of equal rank as my father, and a man I recognized as an Orderly of the High Court.

Mother had not given up her fight. She still wanted Huor to take over father's position, just as Eofel had said.

And now that I held a position of power, I was just the sort of ally Huor needed in order to sway the courts.

It took me but thirty seconds to see through the shallow depths of my mother's plot. It took thirty minutes for the three men about me to so much as preface the importance of my support for their campaign.

And when they were finished, and my ears had just about shriveled and died with their overuse of the words 'duty', 'good of the people', and 'balance in a time of war', I responded quite simply.

"As a Shieldmaiden, I can do nothing but support the politics of my King. And in this time of war, what with death and assaults being foremost in everyone's mind, there is very little politicking to support. So I encourage you to pursue your suit in the court of law and I wish you the best, but there is nothing I can do,"

"But Calahdra, surely you hold some sway not as a Shieldmaiden, but as my sister. Don't the ties of family bind you to some endorsement of my plans?" My brother asked after a stunned moment was shared by all three men.

I gave Huor a cold, breathless stare. "Your sister and the Shieldmaiden of Rohan are now one in the same, Huor. Or perhaps you missed that crucial detail whilst plotting with mother. Regardless, I suggest you take your inquiries elsewhere,"

And I stood to leave, but not before Huor snatched at my wrist.

"You would sooner rot on some battlefield than aid your own kin? You would forsake the only member of your family who has yet the patience to speak with you?"

I took a deep, steadying breath before meeting his eyes once more.

"You are no kin of mine, Huor. You lost that privilege many years ago, upon the bank of a brook in the Firien Wood when I was but a child and you not yet a man,"

Huor dropped my arm as if it was branded with evil.

And I left the room, my pulse now laced with malice and my purpose that of destruction.

I unleashed many arrows upon the targets of the archery range that evening. And on an empty stomach, no less, with a bow and arrows that I had never touched before. For hours, I lay siege upon the hapless bull's-eyes. And my fury must have been clear to all, for no one said a word to me.

When darkness fell at last, and I could no longer see the targets, I fell to my knees. I was an awful mess at that point…a blob of sweat, tears, scars, and hormones.

Never before had I craved Legolas more, and yet I was grateful for his absence. If he had seen me then, he surely would have died of grief.

And after what seemed like several eternities of my noiseless sobs and maniacal howls, a cloak was draped about me and an arm lifted me up.

I was led by the waist to a bath somewhere, and later I found myself in a bed that was not my own. But beyond that, I knew only sleep.

Oddly enough, it was Eowyn who had been my savior. When I awoke the next morning, I found her curled up next to me in a very large, hideously comfortable bed.

I sat with a start and ran my hands through my hair, expecting to encounter snarls. But instead, my fingers met soft, newly washed waves. And, upon further inspection of my arms, I found that I had been dressed in sleeves of pale beige silk. In fact, I was wearing an entire nightgown of pale beige silk.

And when I stood from the bed, I found also that my wounds had been re-bandaged, a new set of clothes were awaiting me along with my jewelry, knife and boots, and a whole basket of green apples had been set on the desk across from the bed.

I placed my hands to my temples in wonder. Somehow, I would have to find a way to repay Eowyn. Never had _anyone_ shown me such kindness.

"Good morning," Eowyn's voice greeted me from behind. I turned to see her now sitting up, gazing at me with her shockingly crystalline eyes.

"Eowyn, how did all of thi...?"

"I was out on my nightly walk when I found you, Calahdra. I could tell then that you did not need a healer or a soldier or a lover. I could tell that you needed a friend. And so I brought you back, gave you a bath, and managed to get you to eat," She told me, now stretching beside the great bed. Upon seeing the same bewildered expression on my face, she added "I'm sure you don't remember much of it, seeing as how you kept dosing off,"

"I remember nothing," I said, incredulous yet.

"Well, simply because you don't remember doesn't me it isn't true. Now come. Take breakfast with me. And then we'll get you dressed up properly for Legolas' return,"

At the very mention of his name, I was utterly alert and quite compliant. Eowyn, upon sensing this, laughed and beamed at me.

She led me through several hallways I had not encountered to a similarly unrecognizable dining room. It was small, cozy, and had many windows facing the plains of the south and the mountains in the west.

"You would have thought that I might have noticed this from the outside,"

Eowyn smiled. "This is the royal breakfast chamber. It was designed strategically so that we might be able to eat in peace during a siege,"

I chuckled. As we sat at the single, rather rustic picnic bench, a maid entered the room.

"What can I serve you, my ladies?" she asked.

"Porridge for us both, please. And some of that mead that I had yesterday morn," Eowyn said.

"Just water for me, please," I said.

The maid nodded politely and left us.

"Do you not drink alcohol, Calahdra?" Eowyn asked.

"I avoid it if I can," I said, suddenly uncomfortable. As I nervously ran my fingers over the rough edges of the table, I noticed an odd carving. Upon further inspection, I found it to read 'Theodred smells of skunk'.

With a laugh, I looked to Eowyn. "Did Eomer write this?"

She glanced at where I was pointing and gave me a mischievous grin. "It was either him or I,"

But I watched as her face fell, and I reached across the table to take her hand in mine.

"I have heard tales of how close the three of you were as children. The staff and city folk all told me such marvelous tales of your adventures. I am sorry Theodred was lost, Eowyn,"

She gave me a kind smile. "Thank you,"

Our food was then brought to us. Eowyn received her porridge and a small bowl of blackberries. I received mine with an apple.

"My love for these fruits must have become widely known,"

Eowyn smirked. "We thought it cute, the staff and I. For some reason, you lose all your deadliness and all your fierceness when people think of you munching away,"

We sat in a comfortable silence as we finished our rather delicious meal; I was delighted to find my porridge to be mashed full of all sorts of nuts and berries. Part of me was jealous of …owyn's good fortune. When I admitted this to her, she told me that I was welcome to the dining chamber any time I wished.

"Theoden's party should arrive soon," she said. "There's going to be a banquet this evening, you know,"

I smiled at her. "Your uncle guessed as much,"

Eowyn smiled too. "Do you have a dress to wear?"

I thought for a moment. My pale blue dress and my funeral attire were the only dresses I owned, and neither was quite appropriate for an honorary banquet. I shook my head, somewhat fearful of Eowyn's reaction.

She reacted as I thought she might.

"No? We must fix that at once!" she said, following a gasp.

And so I was rushed back to her dressing room and forced to sit upon her bed while she searched through her wardrobe.

"You're quite a bit slimmer than I, especially in the chest…," I heard her say, and I blushed girlishly, "But I think one of my older dresses might fit you,"

And with a dramatic swish, she pulled two dresses out from the closet and presented them to me.

Both were far more regal than anything I had worn before, but they were undoubtedly beautiful. One was deep burgundy, with a square neckline and a rather voluptuous skirt. I cringed a bit at the thought of dragging it about all night long.

But the second captured my heart at once. It looked much like something a true elf maiden was supposed to wear, for it was made of fine silk and had long, draping sleeves. I reached out to it at once, and ran my hands over the smooth, golden bodice.

"I like this once very much," I told Eowyn, and she grinned as she laid the fine garment over my outstretched hands.

"It has been a long time, you know, since I took much pride in my looks," I told her quietly, for my thoughts had turned to my mother and what her reaction might have been if she had ever seen me wearing such a dress.

Eowyn was quiet, too, perhaps sensing my distress.

I looked up at her. "My mother was bent on molding me into something beautiful. She wished for me to become her doll…a perfect picture of an elf maiden. But I did not grow to look the part. At least, not in her eyes. I was too human. Too average. And she loathed me for it. Or rather, hated me _more_ for it,"

Eowyn sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was a foreign touch; a gesture entirely of friendship, which was not something I had been exposed to before.

"I always wondered, though, if I really _could _look the part. And this dress…it looks so much like the things she used to wear,"

Eowyn gave me an encouraging shove. "Try it on, then,"

I smiled, and strode to her dressing partition. Eowyn came with me. "You're going to need help with all of those laces," she explained.

Despite my initial embarrassment at disrobing before her, I truly did appreciate her clearly experienced hands. The corset-like bodice was crisscrossed with very fragile ribbons, and I would have had no patience at all with seeing to all of the loops, clasps, and knots.

When I was announced as dressed and prodded towards a mirror, I gasped.

I really did look like an elleth. And when I pushed my hair behind my telltale ears, Eowyn gasped as well.

I looked like something out of a fairytale; like Lúthien always looked in my mind's eye. A silhouette of pure gold, with the curves I had always dreamed of and the natural beauty of a woodland sprite.

I met Eowyn's eyes and whispered my thanks. Gently, she placed a hand on my cheek and ran her thumb in a circle about my jaw.

"You are very welcome, Calahdra," and in her voice was a very compassionate, almost motherly tone that would have instantaneously set me at ease had I been at all troubled.

The two of us then changed, and I dressed in my new attire. I was pleased to find that my new clothing fit much better than my last set, for I had lost a great deal of weight since last I had mended my clothing.

Eowyn herself was in one of her usual dresses. Not her white one…which I had always been vastly jealous of…but one that was more characteristic of typical Rohirric female garb.

We made our way to the main hall of Meduseld and sat upon the chaise near the throne. We were silent, mostly, for I suspected that _both_ of us were anxious for the arrival of someone from Theoden's guard.

I wondered, then, if Eowyn knew of Lady Arwen and her impact on Aragorn's current state of mind. Of course, if Arwen had indeed sailed to Valinor, then the White Lady of Rohan would be perhaps the wisest choice of all the ladies of Middle Earth to court. But I knew Aragorn better than to think him capable of romancing any woman during a time of war.

In my reverie, I had absentmindedly taken to twirling my knife about in my hands. I awoke when it was plucked from my hands.

"This was your father's," she said, inspecting the carvings upon the hilt.

"How did you know?"

"I have met him. Many times, actually, for his sister was my mother's lady in waiting and moved with Eomer and me to Meduseld. She stayed with us until her passing, but he visited her many times before then. I had always admired this blade,"

"I did not know that, Eowyn. In fact, I had no notion of my father ever having a sister," I told her, flabbergasted.

Eowyn looked as if she was going to respond, but she was interrupted by a guardsman.

"Theoden's party has been spotted, my ladies. They are but a quarter hour away,"

We both jumped up at once. Eowyn made for the porch, whereas I made for the stable.

I raced as if I was a child, hunted by some unseen demon. And when I reached the stables, I immediately went to Meleare and leapt upon her back.

_"I was napping, you know,"_and I smacked my mare's rump in chastisement.

_"I very much doubt that, you sassy creature,"_

_"What has you in such a mood?"_she asked, stretching her neck to her hay basket.

_"Legolas is coming home,"_

I was in far too good a mood to correct my mental slip up. But Meleare was perceptive.

_"He is not from here, Calahdra. He is not a man of Rohan,"_

_"I know that,"_

_"Then why do you treat him as such? Why do you act as though he is made of the same stuff as you or I or any number of the Horsepeople?"_

Rendered mute by her question, I ran my fingers through her mane in silence.

And then a realization…the obvious answer to her question…came upon me like thunder: slow at first, but then with a momentous climax that left me stunned, awed, and humbled.

_"Because he is my family, Meleare. As you are, or father was, or even Eowyn is now. Because he found a way into my heart and a piece of me is now in his. And for that reason, we _are_ made of the same stuff," _

Because family was not a term that had any connection to bloodlines or origins. It was not a label to be placed next to names or faces.

Family was an honor.

Family was a definition.

Family was a substance that tied every living thing to its background, its name, its fate.

And unlike a thread, family was unbreakable.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Before the story progresses any further, there are several points I'd like to make that might widen your view and refresh your memory.

First of all, Calahdra's depression hasn't up and disappeared. As evident in this chapter (as well as practically every other), her past still haunts her and Legolas' presence in her life merely masks the pain. He really hasn't done much to heal her. And as anyone who has suffered from depression knows, you can't be magically cured of it. It generally fades away until you don't notice it anymore. Calahdra is a perfect example of that.

Secondly, Cal has many facets. Three, as I like to imagine. One is the human side, which has as many faults as it does strengths. Although it is this human side that makes her so relatable to both the readers and the writer, it is also the side that makes her vain, ignorant, stubborn, and bitter. It is this side that fuels her depression and damages her 'elven' side.

It is her 'elven' side that contains all the parts of her that we as readers can only dream of; the internal eloquence and wisdom, the beauty and the feline-like strength, the spirituality, and the passion. This is the side that she herself is both reverent and terrified of.

And lastly is the Shieldmaiden. The girl that is not a girl. The warrior that is more than a warrior. The icon, the idol, and the burgeoning celebrity. And(as brushed upon in this chapter, while this is what she believes is her destiny, it is not the side of her that she desires to become. This side is perhaps even more damaging than the human part of her. This is the side that would either descend into darkness and martyrdom, or ascend into godliness and martyrdom. Both sides, perhaps, are equally as tempting.

And finally, Legolas himself is not a saint. He, as mentioned before, has merely expressed his displeasure with Calahdra's grief, and has not acted to heal it. He also has a temper, which he claims is his a result of his love for her. And for all of his promises to tell her of his history and of the Fellowship, he has not fulfilled a single one. So is he the perfect elf that so many of us dream of? No. Not in this story. And where his faults will lead him and our heroine, I haven't quite decided. But let's just say that Calahdra will realize all of this in due time.

So, thank you for enduring that mini character analysis :) I wanted to share my thoughts with you guys, and please, leave me any comments or concerns you might have in regards to it. You can also formspring me any questions you might have at Whisper512.

Happy reading and many thanks!


	29. Chapter 28: Dance

This is the Chapter you've all been waiting for.

* * *

Eowyn had outdone herself.

Rosemary and tarragon painted the air, as well as silk tapestries depicting all of the great battles of Rohan. A lamb was laid upon a spit over the fire, and all the best casks had been pulled from the storerooms and shaped in great pyramids upon every table. Every waiter and maid in attendance had been dressed in the best array of clothing. Even the children, set at little picnic tables on the edges of the hall, had been scrubbed clean.

Though the best court musicians were in attendance, my lyre was on my lap. A smile was on my lips. Legolas' hand was in mine. The evening seemed almost too grandiose, too perfect.

And yet, despite the acidic excitement that radiated about Meduseld, the memories of those who had died, those who were heroes as well as martyrs, loomed in all of our minds.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!" Our King said, holding the chalice out to us.

"Hail!" was the response, and a moment of silence followed. Many were sending prayers to the halls of the dead; some were draining their cup in a single go.

Most of those in attendance had arrived with the full intention to become absolutely inebriated. This was, of course, the last opportunity most of them would arrive to in which to enjoy themselves, for war would surely call soon.

I myself took a rare and rather generous gulp from my own goblet. _"For Eofel, and Haldir, and all others who perished," _

Music and dancing, feasting and drinking, storytelling and gossip-sharing, all of the highlights of such gatherings, began at once.

"Dance with me," Legolas pleaded, and after stashing my lyre, I joined him.

He took my hand and my waist and led me into an expanding mob of couples. He started as if to lead me into some sort of romantic, slow-metered waltz.

"Is this how you would dance in Mirkwood?" I asked skeptically.

He nodded earnestly, and began to sway a little faster.

"Legolas, look around you. This is not Mirkwood," And with a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was careening towards us, I tugged him viciously into a sashay.

"This is how we dance in Rohan," I said, beaming at his bewildered expression. Twirling, I skipped in time and brought his arms up over my head. With shimmies and leaps, I spun him about the dance circle, being ever mindful to not crash into the other dancers, all of whom having taken to a similar dance style. Before long, my love's confusion had melted into joy, and we escaped into the precarious rhythms and joyous motions of my people's traditions.

Time ultimately passed, and we feasted on the kitchen's marvelous spread. Aragorn sat across from me, with Eomer at his left. Eowyn was at my right side, and I smiled at this, glad of her company. I had pestered the siblings into telling me tales of their childhood in Edoras, and they, having both enjoyed mead themselves, were obliged to do so. Theoden, being but a few seats down from us, interjected frequently with his commentary and corrections of their stories.

Legolas was somewhere down the table with Gimli, who was in the process of describing his deep and undying love of the Caves of Aglarond to several young boys and the hobbits.

Chatter, uproarious laughter, and the occasional belch rang even more merrily now that dinner was through. My people were ever roused by good food and good drink.

"Cal, play something for us!" Eomer said, having caught sight of the parcel upon my lap.

"What do you wish to hear?" I forced the inquiry out of my lips, for a childish embarrassment was clouding my head.

"Something elvish," Eomer prompted, and many heads began to nod, for I had drawn a crowd.

I looked down at my beloved instrument. With a sigh, I pulled it from its case and set it in the crook of my hip and thigh. Gently, I ran my hands over the strings, checking to make sure my tuning before the banquet had held.

"This is a song that I composed," I announced, and the crowd went silent. "It was arranged from something I once heard my mother singing,"

And I began to play, my fingers stroking the slight pillars of my lyre as wisps amongst the twilit trees of some ancient forest. With a subtle breath, I began to sing, the Sindarin rolling off of my tongue like silk and honey.

I sang then of Finduilas, and of her torn heart. I sang of the doom she cast upon Túrin Turambar, and of the evil of Glaurang and the sack of Nargothrond. And though I doubted that many more than two now before me understood what it was I was singing, the eyes of the men and women and children gazing at me held hints of wonder, and grief, and adventure.

When at last my fingers ceased their serenade, applause came to my ears.

"That was beautiful," Eowyn said, and many shared her regards.

"Who knew that such a warrior had such fine fingers," was Eomer's response, and Aragorn agreed, adding "Or such a fine voice,"

Legolas came up behind me and laid his hands upon my shoulders. "Well done,"

Emboldened, I stood (but only after setting my prized lyre upon the table), and kissed him in full.

The loudest cheer of the night so far rang about the hall, and I smiled as I looked up at him.

"Is there anything you cannot do, love?"

"Yes," I replied.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I cannot tend wounds, or grow gardens, or sew. Oh, what I would I give just to sew properly…,"

Legolas laughed and pulled me once more to the ring of dancers.

The night passed too quickly into early morning, and yet the festivities went on. I myself was spent, and with I gentle peck I bid Legolas goodnight.

But upon entering my rooms, I was awoken once more, for a thought surfaced within my liquor-tinted imagination.

I lay upon my bed, and without effort at all, the thought consumed me.

The days before full war came upon us would be few and quick in passing. And when would such an opportunity befall upon us again? For when we rode to war, we would be sleeping in a thin tent inches away from _another_ thin tent.

And when would another night come along where I had consumed my stomach's weight in alcohol and held such brilliant confidence –or foolhardiness- as a result?

It was then that my door opened and Legolas stepped inside.

He stopped when he saw me, his hand resting against the doorsill. His eyes, though sparkling, became guarded.

His eyes trailed up my exposed legs and to the seam of my dress. It rested just inches down my thigh, for it had ridden up when I had flopped upon my bed.

His eyes continued to my bust, held sensuously by the constraints of my bodice.

His eyes were then forcibly placed on my own, and I smiled slowly.

"Quel amrun, meleth," I said, sitting up. My head rushed with mead and movement, but I kept steady.

Legolas moved to the candle on my dressing desk and lit it with a flint, never once taking his eyes off of mine. He continued to my window sill and drew the curtains tight, still silent and breathlessly unblinking.

A heat was building up in my chest, and a rampant pulse began to build within my thighs.

Our stare was broken only when his tunic passed up over his head. And even when he settled next to me, still wordless, the windows to his soul were open to trespass.

He ran a hand over my shoulder and down the Calla Lily sleeve of my gown. "Do you realize how breathtaking this dress is on you, my love?"

"Eowyn and I hoped such might be the case,"

"You succeeded," he breathed, now pulling his lips down my neck. He sketched freeform graffiti into my evaporating skin.

"You've been drinking," I could smell the hearty fumes of ale drifting up from his mouth.

"Gimli and I had a contest," he told me, now nipping at my collarbone. My head fell back of its own accord, and a muffled moan fell from my lips. I felt his lips turn up in a grin against the edges of my gown.

"And who won?" I muttered, my hand now pulling the front laces out with indelicate speed.

"I did," he whispered into my breast. He gazed up at me through the strands of gold now falling over his head. His eyes held deep smolders and hidden shrouds. A manifold passion born of the depths of his home, his soul, his long years, appeared upon his unlined brow.

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from a noble prince of Mirkwood," I said, reaching out to brush the hair from his face.

He took my hand in his and laced my fingers through his own. Seriousness suddenly shadowed his eyes. The carnal creature within me sought to bargain anything with gods in order to cast it away.

"I am not thinking clearly, I fear. For methinks I have been left with the impression that you desire more than mere kisses this night," he said, tracing the scars upon my knuckles, my palm, my wrists.

"Your intuition could not be more correct," I whispered, suddenly alight with a fiercer flame than ever before.

Legolas pulled me into his lap and pulled the hair from my ear. With a tender kiss upon my head, he spoke to me with a voice like the caress of an autumn breeze.

"Do you speak truthfully? Do you wish to give yourself to me this night?"

I nodded, rendered speechless.

"Say it to me, Calahdra," was his command.

At first, the words, bound back by the scar tissues of memory, would not come. But a new voice sounded out amongst the others.

It was Theoden's voice.

_"Do not feel shame, Calahdra. You are young, and love is easy when you are young, even in times of darkness," _

My hands came to Legolas' face. I pulled away to kneel before him upon my bedspread and looked into the deep green and mists of storm clouds mingling with flame I had come to adore.

"You are the love of my life, Legolas Thranduilion. I pledge myself to you from now until the end of our days. I swear this upon my title as a Shieldmaiden, my feä, and all of the stars of the heavens. And it is my desire that you, _my_ Legolas, make love to me this night,"

Legolas' smile was slow and breathtaking, and he took my head in his own hands and kissed my brow. When he pulled away, he laced his hands in mine once more and placed them between our breasts.

"And I, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, pledge myself to you, Calahdra Medlinniel. For now, for tomorrow, for always,"

We sealed the vows with a kiss. But the kiss became more than a kiss quite quickly.

Legolas turned me around and pulled the laces from my dress as if they were made of steel.

"Careful, love. I have to return this dress," I said with a chuckle.

"I'll pay Eowyn in jewels the size of boulders, if I have to. But I need this off of you,"

I smiled and reached backwards to guide his hands through the hooks and knots. When the last loop lay loose against my shoulder blade, I let the dress fall to my knees.

Raggedy sighs escaped my beloved's mouth, and he put his hands about my waist. Slowly, as if handling the edges of a blade, he brought his hands down and rested them against my buttocks. When he had a good hold on me, he pulled me back into his lap and turned my mouth to his.

His tongue was unrelenting, like some sort of war machine. But I held my own, and I pillaged my own share of his sweet mouth.

His hands cupped over my breasts, which felt as though they were swelling with molten lead. I groaned into his mouth as he ran his thumb in tight loops about each areola. My back arched into his iron chest, and I felt his erection press deep into the small of my back. I reached back with one hand, suddenly filled with a sinful curiosity, and ran my hand over it through his breaches. A moan sounded out in the gloom.

He made as if to turn me around, but fell backwards with a groan against my nest of pillows after becoming tangled in my wayward sheets. I giggled, the passion passing for just a moment.

But as I fell back onto his chest and began teasing the edges of his mouth with mine, the heat built up once again.

"Calahdra, this is torture. Take off my leggings,"

"No," I said, growling the word as I ran my tongue along his front teeth.

"Please," he moaned, his hands trapping themselves in my hair.

"I don't want to," I whispered, before pulling my lips along his earlobe. It was a blatant lie, but I gained a sense of satisfaction from seeing him grovel for my mercy. "You'll have to force me," I murmured, and I blew hot air across the tips of his ear.

His hands struck my armpits like vipers, and he had me on my back squealing with laughter in a heartbeat.

"I will tickle you into submission, then," he said, his fingers causing me to make the most obnoxious of all snorting noises ever to have graced the lands of Arda.

"I won't. I won't!" I called, but he continued his assault, now groping at my sides and beneath my chin.

And then he caught my breast in his mouth, and lust was upon me once more.

I pressed my hands against his head, both pulling him to me and pushing him away. My neck cramped as my spine bent this way and that, and desire ran thick through my swollen veins.

"Yes," I finally allowed, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. But Legolas had lost his will as well, and he pulled his breeches off himself.

He stopped all movement as he hovered above me. His eyes battered mine, and I could feel our souls begin to collide even then.

"I love you," I said, and he smiled in return.

"As I love you," he returned.

And yet again, we danced a blissful dance.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

So. Yes.  
Tell me what you think.

And by the way, please read my newest fic, "Exceptions". It's really capturing my heart the way Ever and Ever first did, and I see that as a _very_ good sign.


	30. Chapter 29: Storm

I had always envisioned the morning after my first night with a lover to be something out of a fairytale.

I had pictured sunlight pouring through breeze-swept curtains with birds and various woodland creatures perched on the window sill. I had imagined awakening with a smile upon my face already and a grand stretch, accompanying a blissful sigh. And I had imagined my equally pleased lover to already be awake and beaming.

My hopes were woefully unsatisfied.

A thunderstorm was crashing bitterly against my window pane. My body was stiff, sore, and exhausted yet. And Legolas was still at rest, breathing heavily against a pillow.

I sat up in bed and ran a hand through my bedraggled hair. I groaned softly, and it nearly passed as a sigh, albeit a rather discontented one. I turned to watch Legolas' back, and how it ebbed with every breath he took. I longed to reach out to him, to run my hands over the body I had mastered just a few hours ago, but I withstood the consuming urge. I could sense (what with my newfound affinity with his consciousness after our binding) that he was deep in rest. I remembered then the first of his emotions that had washed over me as we had bonded; first, his absolute pleasure, and second, his ever advancing exhaustion. His happiness that our relationship had finally come to fruition had followed behind both.

It was safe to say that such knowledge had bruised my self esteem just a little.

But the sight of him at peace did bring me joy. It also brought with it a montage of memories from the night before, both idyllic and terrible.

For our lovemaking had been immensely pleasurable. Beyond pleasurable. But what had happened _afterwards_ had been harsh to say the least, and masked any immediate recollection of the former.

Upon settling back into my bed, I fell into a drowsy stupor, and the memory took hold of me.

_"Sleep, Calahdra. I've worn you out,"_

I had given him a savage grin, and ravaged his mouth one last time. He allowed it, but pulled away gently and settled me amongst my pillows and blankets.

"Are you not going to sleep as well?" I asked.

"I'm going to have a look at the stars," he explained, pulling his clothes back on. He wrapped my cloak around himself as well, and a part of me was displeased that he was suddenly clothed again so soon.

Legolas smiled knowingly.

"I'll be back soon,"

"Naked?"

A rogue grin slipped beneath the shadow of a hood.

"Try to rest, Calahdra. I'll be home soon to see to you,"

The door closed.

I stared into the dark, matte surfaces of my ceiling. A calm settled upon me; the sort of calm that follows a hurricane.

"A great, big, hurricane of sex," I whispered aloud.

"But also pain,"_ A girlish voice in my head responded._

My hand traveled to beneath my navel. I had not known just how jarring the first time would be.

Of course it hadn't really been the first time, but still. Flesh had healed. Scars had healed. Memories had faded.

And those that had rested beneath the skin had faded enough that I had not thought of my brothers until just then.

"Calahdra. Sleep."__

I hissed. That was going to take a while to get used to.

Of course, the affect was not that of mindspeak, where the words sounded in one's head just the way they would if they had been said aloud. What I felt now with Legolas was more of a feeling, a pressure, an understanding that transcended words. But it was something that could be translated_ into words._

Exhausted finally, I heeded Legolas' wishes and sank into sleep.

But it seemed that the moment my eyes had closed, another opened.

And though it did not look at me, its focus was something alarmingly nearby.

And through time, and space, and the distance of intangible units of life and death, it drew ever nearer. The darkness and shadow, the blinding glow of lifeless flames, the horrifying paradigm of a deathless corpse fell upon the night.

I awoke with a scream.

"Legolas,"__

I reached out to his mind and found him unscathed, but I could tell that he too knew of the Enemy's presence.

I had thrown on a ratty dress and stole into the night like a wraith. I ran to where the eye had been looking in my thoughts, despite the inner turmoil that my action caused. Like a wild creature, I had some natural aversion to this wholly unnatural terror, and the bestial fear sounded out then like never before.

I found myself in Meduseld, in one of the halls of the guest quarters. The soldiers and other party-farers were spread out upon the ground on cloaks and bedrolls. But those in the room I arrived in were awake or fleeing.

I saw then that in one of the Hobbit's hands was the stone Gandalf had bade away from the ruins of Isengard. But instead of a lifeless black orb, it was alight with a sinister glow that seemed to leech the color and very life from the now seizing Hobbit. His face, contorted with pain, mouthed screams he could not release.

Gandalf looked on with horror until his eyes met mine. A half second later, Aragorn flew into the room.

Legolas, following after, took no notice of me, for his eyes were bent merely on the source of the Eye's attention, as mine had been.

Aragorn, acting on impulse, stole the orb away from the Hobbit and collapsed much like Pippin had. Legolas lunged for his friend at the moment I did.

Legolas wrapped iron arms about Aragorn's waist, pulling him back. I reached for the orb, seeking to hide it, destroy it. Anything to lift the foul blaze from the air.

As my fingers reached out, a moment's contact with the ebony orb sent me back with a gasp.

"You too will die, Calahdra Medlinniel. But only after your gift becomes my weapon,"__

The voice was like the grating squeal of a whetting stone against granite, and my body recoiled as it burrowed into the deepest crevices of my bones.

"My lady"

It was Merry whose lap I ultimately fell into.

I righted myself and looked about. Tremors racked my body, yet I hid them. For I then saw Aragorn, who was writhing in Legolas' embrace.

I found the nearest water pitcher and splashed a fair portion of its contents across the ranger's face. He came too at once.

Carefully, Legolas and I had set him against a wall. Aragorn gave us a small nod, but unconvinced that he was well, Legolas stayed with him. Before I could turn away, Aragorn reached for my hand.

"What did the Eye say to you?" His voice was hoarse, as if he had swallowed fire.

I shook my head, too terrified of the memory to dwell on it.

I went then to Pippin, who had been left in the care of Gandalf. Merry kneeled before his friend as well, and when I saw the shocked and nearly sickened look upon his face, I put a hand on his shoulder.

Merry leaned into me, as if faint, and took my hand.

The wizard, seeming to have gathered what information he could from Pippin, looked to us.

"He will live," Gandalf announced, a hint of disappointment painting his voice. Merry took no notice of it, and merely sighed.

I had traded places with Legolas for a time while he conferred with Gandalf. They spoke in hushed Quenya, and I picked up words like 'doom', 'leave', and 'White City'.

When Legolas returned, he and I helped Aragorn to his bed in silence before making our way back to my quarters. When at last we were again in bed, Legolas placed a hand over my heart.

"Are you well?"

"I need to sleep,"

His mind brushed against my own. I knew what he wished to know.

And so I shared the wrenching voice with him, letting it seep into his own consciousness.

"Valar protect you," The halting words were all he could manage.

I buried my head in his chest and he let me hide there for a time. When he coaxed me out, he kissed my nose.

"I had so hoped that we might have been able to remember this night as one of joy," I whispered.

"As had I," he said, "But there shall be other nights,"

"Too few, I fear,"

To this, Legolas had nothing to say. He simply bowed his head and allowed sleep to claim us both. 

A rather frightening crash of lightening awoke me from my reverie. Legolas, too, was now awake, and his arms encircled my waste. When a second bolt sounded out, his face was buried in the sheets covering my breast.

"I do not like thunder," he murmured, and I laughed.

"You are afraid of storms?"

He nodded slowly.

With a flourish, I snapped a blanket above our heads and let it drift over us in a makeshift tent.

Sitting cross-legged, I pulled Legolas onto my lap and rand my fingers through his golden mane. He smiled, but paled as a blistering lightening bolt threw shadows against our shabby refuge.

I giggled once more. "To think that an army of a thousand orcs and the potential wrath of Saruman brought naught more than a blink from you, but a mere storm can find you shivering like a babe,"

Legolas shook his head. "Orcs…Saruman…they can be killed. But tempests like this cannot be quelled by steel or arrow,"

"That is true," I said, thoughtful.

Legolas sat up beside me and pulled my hair back over my forehead. "This is healing well," he mused while running a fingertip across the scratch that remained. He gave similar regards to the other wounds on my torso and arms, all of which having become nothing but scars by now. When he pulled the sheets out from around my leg to see to my calf, he paused at the sight of blood between my thighs.

"I am sorry I hurt you," he murmured, stroking the bloodstains away with his thumb.

"It was not all that bad,"

_'Liar,'_ he called.

I shook my head, letting my auburn waves roll down over my shoulders. My cheeks, much to my chagrin, were aflame.

Sensing my unease, Legolas moved on and passed my leg off as healed as well.

Legolas lay down with his head in my lap, and as I picked apart his braids, a sensitive question bubbled within my throat.

"Come now, love. Ask away," he coaxed.

"How many…lovers…have you…?"

Legolas inhaled sharply and chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I did not have to ask…I just…,"

"No, you have a right to know," he said, reaching up to stroke my face. He was thoughtful for a time. Memories slipped over his creased brow,

"Sixteen, I believe," was his reply. "But keep in mind that I have walked this earth for many years, and have spent many nights beneath the moon," he said upon seeing my eyebrows rise.

"And have you bonded with any of them like we have?"

My voice was weak, but Legolas, flush with anxiety, nodded with confidence. The sight splintered a bit of my resolve.

But his nodding ceased and concern for him replaced my concern for myself when I saw his hands tighten in claws about my bedspread.

"I was betrothed many, many years ago. Hundreds of years back, and during a time when I was wild, reckless…,"

I cocked my head in curiosity and wrapped my hands around his.

"She was…exciting. Unpredictable. But she was also, as I later found out, deeply in love with an ellon who was from a family that was far beneath her own social status,"

Legolas looked up at me and blinked, and I felt then the pain that she had caused him. Behind his irises was a dark gale that transcended all the many years he had spoken of.

"Did I love her? No. But our engagement was smiled upon and our marriage was expected. And so we acted as if we _were_ in love. And somehow, we managed to find ourselves bound to one another after a night of rather bland lovemaking.

"It was then, having gained full access to her thoughts, that I learned of her love for this ellon. And she, too, learned something of my past. She learned then that in the early days of our betrothal, I had taken a good friend of mine as a consort,"

"A consort?" I interjected, "You mean a male?"

Legolas nodded, wary now. I felt his shame and his nervousness as if it was my own.

But I found no fault in this, for I had learned as a young girl in my father's camps that men were men and would take pleasure in each other if they so wished.

What I did find fault in was his unfaithfulness.

"So she was disloyal in her words, but you were disloyal in your actions," I surmised.

Legolas bobbed his head once and looked away, now a bold shade of crimson.

"The bond was broken within hours of it having been made," he murmured.

I sat in shock for a moment or so, but understanding crept over me. He had been young, and so had she. And in the chaos of hormones (as I myself very well knew), promises were shattered as quickly as they were hastily made.

"What was her name, Legolas?"

"Baragwen," he told me.

"And how was it that Baragwen and you managed to bond despite having no love for each other?"

"Oh, we did have some love for each other I suppose. But mostly, it was passion that fueled our coupling. My passion was for anyone, and hers was for an ellon she could not keep from loving. In our desperation, I think we latched on to one another in every way, and thus the link was established. But it fell apart the moment we discovered the truth about one another. For the thoughts foremost on our minds revealed our true purposes,"

I thought then of the thought that had been foremost on Legolas' mind. Pleasure. And the desire for sleep. What then did that spell for our future?

Legolas laughed, having caught the drift of my thoughts.

"Do not worry, my love. I will not abandon you in bed _for_ bed,"

This managed to draw a laugh from me as well.

"What was on my mind, if I might ask?"

Legolas sat up beside me and held my face in his hands. "Gratefulness. Thanks. Appreciation that you had lived long enough for that moment,"

A tear managed its way across my cheek. Legolas kissed it away.

The storm outside had broken, and with dual sighs, my lover and I arose at last. Gloriously naked, we stretched until our joints were rendered mute. Turning to one another, we laughed at the sight of ourselves. With our hair like that of wild men and our bodies covered in a fine coat of alcohol, dirt, and various body fluids, we looked like laughable cretins.

Legolas set out for bathwater and I set to tidying our ruined room. Clothes were scattered about, weapons laid haphazardly on every surface. The nest of blankets and pillows upon my bed looked much like a rather menacing fort. And the musk of horse and sweat had descended upon everything. It took all my willpower to even attempt to play the role of maid.

I crossed the room in tip toes when our things had been somewhat organized and my bed made.

With Legolas' tunic wrapped about me, I opened my raindrop laden window. A breeze entered at once, as did the rays of sun I had been longing for. I looked out over the stable grounds and the vast backdrop of the Mountains and I sighed. The air was warm, the sounds were gentle, and all the drama of the night before seemed to have passed away into the vanishing thunderheads.

Life, at least on this day, was good.


	31. Chapter 30: Race

First of all, Chapter 29 was posted as a jarbled mess. For some reason, this website doesn't like italics or rulers very much. A vast and highly important portion of the chapter was cut out. Please PLEASE PLEASE go back and read the new version. IT IS VITAL TO YOUR MENTAL HEALTH AND UNDERSTANDING OF THE STORY THAT YOU DO SO.

Here's the bittersweet news: I have foreseen an end to Ever and Ever. I would like to keep the story beneath 40 chapters, and my sister (who is amazing) and I have worked out the remaining plotline. So my goal is to finish it before school starts up again. Don't worry, I'll continue writing. But Ever and Ever, like all good things, must come to an end at some point.

Also, here's a huge thank you to EVERYONE who has been reading and reviewing. I used to write purely for my own gratification. Now I also write for you. Several of you have said that you've spent hours reading the entirety of Ever and Ever, which really tickles me pink. I know the feeling (addiction, basically) well. Some of my favorite authors (Sydney Andrews, foryouareloved, Melusine, and Pink Siamese to name a few) have done the same thing to me. I've stared at computers so long whilst reading my favorites that my eyes go bloodshot.

As a reminder: Tolkien is the genius behind everything but Calahdra and Co. I own nothing.

* * *

The days passed. War seemed to have stalled on the unspeakable horizon. The people of Rohan went on as they had for all their many years.

I was assigned to this chore and that. I trained with this battalion or another. I attended various meetings of varying significance. Life held a steady rhythm.

Of course, Gandalf and Pippin had left on some nameless errand of which no one would speak. By now, I had learned not to speak of that which I did not know of, for more times than not my inquiries were shot down in tones painted with secrecy.

Legolas' promise was high in my mind.

And yet, for some untold reason, I could not muster the courage to confront him. I had thought that after our bonding we would be inseparable even when we were physically apart. But instead, the increasing distance made Legolas' thoughts and emotions murky, as if I was looking at them through a veil. Legolas explained that in order to maintain the emotional link, it had to be reinforced with physical connections. And neither of us had the energy nor the time for such a thing, which was as I had expected.

Instead, we lived in companionable simplicity, taking our meals together and talking quietly when time allowed. We continued to share my quarters, but Legolas was often away when I returned for sleep, and I awoke far earlier than he did every morning. My responsibilities left me with little time for pleasantries.

In fact, I found that it was Eomer I spent the vast majority of my time with. Theoden had put the Third Marshal in charge of my formal military and political training, and as a result any moment not filled with my tasks as Shieldmaiden were automatically filled with my training as a Shieldmaiden.

I had agreed to this begrudgingly when Theoden first presented me with the order. Prideful and naïve, I had attempted to express that I already had an adequate amount of experience as far as military protocol was concerned.

"My liege, my Father saw to it that I was well versed in…,"

"I am sure he did, Calahdra," Theoden said, and like a child, I refused to acknowledge the lack of patience in his voice.

"Then why must Eomer, or anyone for that matter, waste their time on my education in a time of war?"

Theoden, having been bent over a table of scrolls, rounded on me. "Rohan is not _at_ war, Calahdra. Rohan is preparing its defenses in the event of invasion," he waved his hand over the mass of parchment in example. "And I will see to it that _you_, my Shieldmaiden, are adequately prepared for your role. Besides, Eomer has already offered to assume the role of instructor,"

Taken aback, I lowered my head. "Forgive me, my lord. I meant no offense,"

"Surely not," Theoden responded curtly.

I took my leave, humbled.

And so my days were spent at Eomer's side, shadowing him as he went about his duties as Third Marshal. And in the afternoons, the two of us would spar, practice archery, or ride bareback on the plains about Edoras.

On one such day, we rode far into the steppes of the mountains and visited the famed ice ponds. Trapped in the crags of granite and limestone were vats of frothy ice-water. Fueled by underground springs, the ponds were insulated by the stone and kept near-frozen by the brisk winds that battered the lower face of the mountains.

"Eowyn and I played in these when we were children," Eomer said, running his hands through a nearby pool. "When the summer grew hot, these were the perfect antidote,"

I tethered Meleare to a boulder and joined him, testing the water with my own hand.

"We had pools like these in Fenmarch," I said, "but they were not as cold as this,"

I looked up and met Eomer's eyes.

"You do not speak of your childhood often,"

I looked back down and sat cross-legged with feline grace. My reflection carried a benevolent grin.

"I have little to speak of,"

"That is a lie. Come, you must tell me a story from Tarilyn's younger days,"

Eomer's voice held the same proud, stubborn command that it usually did. Though I usually tried to pay no heed to it, nostalgia won me over this time.

"One day, young Tarilyn was traipsing about the woods nearby her family's estate," I began, putting on my best storytelling guise. Eomer turned and mirrored my pose, taking care to pull his long legs into a pretzel. I laughed at the sight.

"Oh, shush," he scolded as he finally managed to get his legs to cooperate.

"Tarilyn happened upon a fawn, newly born and still damp. The fawn had not yet stood up and looked weak, as if it simply did not have the strength to take its first steps.

"Tarilyn looked about for its mother, thinking that the doe might be nearby. But the little girl found only hoof tracks and no deer. As she followed the tracks, she happened upon something that made her stomach turn….She found also a trail of blood.

"Tarilyn did not want to continue, but she did anyways. She followed the trail for a long while, and when she finally rounded a stand of spruce trees, she found the doe at last.

"But the doe was dead, and as Tarilyn stepped out in shock, a pair of hunters crossed the glen. They took no notice of the little girl, for their eyes were only for their kill.

"Tarilyn, heart-broken, raced back down the trail, tears falling from her eyes. Tarilyn knew that hunters often felled deer in that season, but she did not understand how they could find in themselves the cruelty to kill a mother deer, especially after she had given birth to her fawn.

"When Tarilyn finally came back to the fawn, it was near to death. Its eyes would not open, and it took harsh, sparse breaths.

"Tarilyn took the fawn into her arms and found it to be alarmingly light. Weeping in fear for the fawn, she raced back to her family's stable. In her mind, Tarilyn thought that the fawn might be able to live with one of the brood mares that had recently lost its foal. She knew that the mare still held milk, and in her mind, she could find no difference between deer milk and horse milk.

"But when at last she arrived to the stable, the stable master took the fawn out of her arms and shook his head. 'No, little one. This fawn will not survive on horse milk. The best thing to do is to take him back to the forest and to hope that another mother deer will adopt him,' he said.

"Tarilyn was sad that she had failed in finding the fawn a home, and so she fled to her rooms in tears once again,"

I looked up at Eomer and smiled sadly.

"It was many years until Tarilyn understood the folly of the stable master's words, for does do not adopt fawns other than their own. It was then that Tarilyn realized that the stable master had been sparing her the truth by feeding her a lie, for the fawn had died in her arms as she had raced against the inevitable. For in her pride and her grief, Tarilyn lost all notion of reality,"

Eomer frowned when I finished my tale. For a while, he was thoughtful. When my stare became too much, he stood and looked towards the horses.

"I see now why you do not tell many stories about your childhood. For if that was the happiest story you could muster, I'd hate to hear another…," he told me, half serious, half teasingly.

I smiled slowly and took the hand he offered to me.

"Death _is _inevitable. All that we have is time," Eomer told me, gripping my hand firmly with his own.

I nodded, and carefully, I placed my other hand around his.

"You are a good man, Eomer. Not many could put up with me the way you do,"

Eomer smiled gently at me. And then, with a wicked spark in his eyes, he flung me into the nearby spring.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon practicing sparring in aquatic conditions.

Perhaps I had not noticed Eomer's reverence for me before, but now I realized it in full. Eomer smiled effortlessly when we were together, laughed to the point of tears at least once a day in my presence, and praised my advances in my 'studies' with zeal. He proved to become as fierce a presence in my life as Legolas had.

And while my joy at having found such a friend in Eomer was boundless, another part of me was ashamed. Though Legolas said nothing, every moment I spent with him became increasingly strained. I could tell when I felt at his emotions that he was purposely obscuring them. And I could see the hatred he had for Eomer, for it showed plainly on his face whenever the Marshall passed by.

But again, I did not have the courage nor the will to confront Legolas about it, for I was loathe to sully what little time we might have had left together.

My feigned ignorance only lasted so long, though.

A week after the eventful night of the banquet, Legolas joined me in Meleare's stall after a hard race with Eomer.

"Good evening, meleth nin," I said, pecking his cheek before ducking beneath my mare's stomach.

"I watched your race," he told me, helping me remove Mel's martingale.

"How many furlongs did I beat him by?"

"Four, I'd say,"

"He let us win…," I grumbled, patting Meleare's haunches.

_"Actually, Firefoot and I had struck a bargain,"_

_"For what?"_

_"Extra oats,"_

I laughed, ignoring Legolas' look of skepticism.

_"How were you planning on transporting these oats, dear?"_

_"You're taking them to him,"_

I rolled my eyes, but obliged. "I'm taking Mel's oats to Firefoot," I told Legolas, and he opened the stall gate for me. "Would you mind picking her hooves for me?"

He nodded his head, silent, and set to the task. As I walked away, cask of oats on my hip, I registered the look in his eyes. It was the look that alerted me to him readying for an argument.

I swallowed, fearful. In my distraction and under the assumption that the stable was empty, I failed to see that Eomer, too, was seeing to his steed. As I entered the stall, I collided with him with such force that the oats were spilt in every direction.

"Oh my, I am so sorry," I said, brushing the oats out my hair and off of my leather jerkin.

Eomer, having righted himself, chuckled. "I don't think Firefoot minds,"

And it was clear that the stallion didn't, for he was happily munching on the wayward oats.

"Myself, on the other hand…I might have to punish you quite severely for this transgression," he said, his tone comical in its seriousness, his eyes sparkling with telltale amusement.

I snorted. "I doubt that,"

Eomer smiled and brushed more oats from my hair. "Take supper with Eowyn and me this evening,"

My brow arched of its own accord. "Certainly,"

"Good," he said, and his palm stilled on my head for a half second. A curious narrowing of his eyes occurred before he turned away. Confused, I left, and heard Eomer leave behind me.

When I returned to Meleare's stall, Legolas was perched on a partition, feeding her hay. The look I feared was still on his face.

I stopped before entering, anxious again.

"Legolas?"

He was quiet, appraising me, and then he looked back at Mel.

"I was hoping to take supper with you tonight,"

He had heard.

"I did not know that. If I had known before Eo…,"

Legolas looked back at me, so furious that my mental capabilities petered out at once.

"We have taken every meal together for the last week, Calahdra. Why would my wishes change?"

Taken aback, I was silent.

Having hopped down from the partition, Legolas stood before me.

"Why should he spend more time with you than I? Is an entire afternoon not enough for the two of you? Or must you cavort further?"

Despite having sworn to never fight with him again, anger fell forth from me without a thought.

"You are acting like a child, Legolas! Like a jealous, irrational child! Since when is it your place to question my whereabouts and eating arrangements? I shall choose such things for myself!"

"You think I am jealous?" he retorted. Pointing towards Firefoot's stall, he laughed. "Of him? Of Eomer? What an asinine assumption,"

"Assumption? It is a fact, Legolas,"

Suddenly, tears were welling against my lids. It was not in my nature to cry, but now, confronted with Legolas' wrath once again, I fell apart.

"It was never my wish to spend more time with him than you," I said, sobbing all the while, "You _know_ that. But he is a good man, Legolas. A kind man. How can you fault me for enjoying his companionship? When so many others have treated me like a mere whore, how can you despise a man who treats me with respect?"

"Companionship?" Legolas scoffed, ignoring my tears. "He wants you as more than a companion, Calahdra. He wants you for far more than that,"

I shook my head with such violence that I saw stars. "No. No….,"

And slowly, I looked back at Legolas, at his shaking frame, at his blazing eyes, at the harsh line between his lips. He _could_ not be right. And so I spat unspeakable word at his feet "Liar,"

My own anger, my sorrow, my disbelief culminated into something deadly. Beneath throbbing temples, a wave of dark grew to a deafening pressure.

"You think I am lying, Calahdra? I am no liar. I know what Eomer wants, what he desires. And would kill him before he stole such a thing from me,"

The threat was all it took. With a scream, the dark was released. Legolas stumbled back, his face contorting into pain and fear. All about me, air rushed past, fueling whatever malice it was that I was driving into him.

Legolas crashed against an oak pillar, having been lifted through the air, and collapsed. His blonde braids, which I had weaved just that morning, spilled over his eyes. Slowly, his entire head fell to his chest, and his fingers slackened against the granite floors.

All feeling left my body. In horror, I stared at his body, and how, like a corpse, it lacked any trace of life.

A part of me thought to run. Another part wished to sink away into shadow and not return. And the smallest piece of me, a fragment that had once called for my death, rejoiced at the thought of his.

Meleare's frantic whinny ended any such fantasy.

Awakened, I knelt before Legolas and brought his head back up off of his chest. A breath escaped his lips as I did so, and his eyes rolled about in his head. Placing my hands about his skull, I closed my own eyes and searched for his consciousness. I found it lurking about in the recesses of his memories like it did when he was asleep. But before I could pull him back into daylight, I felt a sticky warmth flow over my fingers.

I opened my eyes and pulled my hands from his head. Blood covered their entirety.

I groaned, ashamed and terrified of what I had done. The memory of orcs -living creatures even in their evil- falling back into death by my own mind, danced before my eyes. How Legolas had survived the same malice when they had not, I could not reckon.

I ripped a strip of cloth from my ratty cloak and wrapped it around Legolas' head with unsteady hands. Ruefully, I urged him awake.

At first, he was hardly coherent, but when he came too, he looked at me with uncertainty.

"What….Calahdra, what happened?" he whispered.

"You don't remember?" In the pacing milliseconds, terror swapped back and forth with relief nearly a million times.

"No. I don't," he said, looking around as if he might have been ambushed at any moment.

"What do you remember?" I asked, hesitant.

"I remember watching you…," he paused, his brow furrowed, "I watched you race Eomer. And then I followed you to the stable. But how…how was I injured?"

I was quiet, unable to think of the truth. And when the solution, a grievous lie, came to me, it was so against my nature that the words fell forth in a flat, lifeless monotone.

"You were sitting on the partition, feeding Meleare. And then you fell down, and you hit your head,"

"I…fell?" he said, disbelief painting his expression as he looked at the low wall.

"You were bumped by the horse in the other stall," I explained, burning with my lies.

Legolas held his hand to the gash in his skull. He groaned, and his back arched in agony. My body clenched in anguish.

"Concussion?" he muttered.

I shook my head. "Just a bad cut. Do you want me to stitch it, or…,"

"Find Aragorn," he said. I nodded, and ran.

Shame, misery, apprehension. All were emotions I had felt before. But in that moment, having attacked the one I loved and then lying in order to protect myself, those emotion amplified themselves into something that consumed all the rationality I still possessed.

Like a phantom, I raced about a blurry, colorless Meduseld.

I did find Aragorn, but only after a frantic search the wasted valuable minutes.

"Cal…?" he asked, starting down the steps of the guard tower I found him on.

"Legolas is hurt…," I said. Aragorn snatched up his satchel and made his way down the staircase.

"What are his injuries?"

"A deep gash. On his head," His already weary face grew ashen, but he sprinted behind me all the way to the stables, which was a good quarter mile.

Upon finding Legolas, Aragorn quickly became lost in healing his friend. I stood far away from the two and Meleare.

The sky was falling in pieces, it seemed, and this piece and fallen far too close to an already fragile soul.

And as I saw the blood, the bandages, the herbs and sutures, anxiety built once more into panic.

As I began to comprehend the brevity of my words and of my actions, of my use of my power to injure another, panic grew into hysterics.

And when I realized that my greatest fault had been my dishonesty, hysterics led to nausea.

I raced from the stable and vomited, heaving with sobs and illness. When the contents of my stomach had been emptied into a haystack, I collapsed.

"What have I done?" I whispered aloud, staring into the amber underside of a cloud caught by the rays of the setting sun. And as I spoke, the amber faded to a dismal grey as the sun was cast behind one of the cloud's companions.

Shadows danced about the exterior of the stable buildings as the day died. The world grew silent. And my heart beat stilled into a glacial half-pulse.

In that moment, I knew that my despair had burrowed so deep that it had inevitably resurfaced in my moment of anger. I knew that although Legolas had pushed through the dark and shown me what it was like to live without fear or faithlessness, he had failed to push it completely aside. And I also knew that although I had outrun my past, I had carried with me a poison more powerful than any memory; I had carried with me the poison of hate.

It was my poison, my hatred, that had worked its way back out of me. And now Legolas was paying the price of my depression in blood.

The irony was painful. The truth was incomprehensible. The future was lost as it had been a month before.

A red dawn, having raced across the heavens, was distinguished by a grey twilight.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Please review. Also, if you've noticed any major spelling/grammar/plot issues, please point them out. I'm preparing myself for the dread epic-edit.


	32. Chapter 31: Time

Author's Chapter Notes:

I was going to try to spread these updates out a little more, but I just couldn't resist. So here it is, another tasty chapter for my lovely readers.  
And please, don't kill me for what I'm about to put you and Calahdra through.

* * *

Needless to say, I did not attend supper that evening, despite Eomer's request.

I spent the night staring at my ceiling, alone in a bed that felt too big. When hours passed by and the stars were masked by clouds, I reached out for Legolas. But I could not find him, for the bond was broken.

I could assume that Legolas was resting in Aragorn and Gimli's quarters. But assuming was not something I was used to. With Legolas, I was used to using my intuition. I was used to simply knowing.

Without him, I felt lost.

But then again, I deserved to lose him.

I swore to never use my power again, even if only to speak to Meleare. And with a delicate tears running down my face, I began to weave a mental barrier between myself and the part of me that could be used against others.

The night passed on.

Through sheets of rain, I made my way to Meduseld. The gloom of a sunless morning was made worse by the torrential downpour. But only a very small, inconsequential part of me took note of the weather.

I found Theoden at his desk in the study behind the throne room. He was drowsily passing his signature over various documents. I watched him for a while, silently addressing his well being.

His skin was papery, and the shadows beneath his eyes were dreadful. But all in all, my king had life in him yet. He was born of a fiery line of kings, and he had inherited the same undying fervor.

Perhaps it was that fervor that had kept him alive during Saruman's witchery. Perhaps it was that passion that had allowed him to come back to his senses at all.

I had not been born of such a line. I was born of stubborn horse lords and bitter elves.

Theoden looked up as I shifted on my feet.

"Calahdra, it is too early. Go back to sleep,"

"I cannot sleep, my liege. I wish to be of some use to you,"

The words were a lie, for I had no wish to do anything.

Theoden studied me. Perhaps he saw the similar lines and hollows beneath my eyes and the wan quality of my skin. If he had, he followed my example and said nothing.

"Very well. Bring us something warm to drink from the Kitchens, and then you can help me sort through all this…," he said, waving vaguely at the mountains of appeals and receipts and trade agreements.

I walked through the empty halls, admiring the simple beauty of oak and marble. Even in the dim candlelight and sharp silence, the hall was magnificent.

I found cider in the kitchens and heated some myself, ignoring the protests of eager bakers who were already awake.

I returned to Theoden's study with a pair of mugs and a kettle of spiced cider.

Quiet with fatigue, the two of us worked through all the miles of parchment until they were ordered from most important to least important. Having done that, Theoden began to sign the smaller pile of far grander documents while I began to forge his signature on the pile of rather trivial ones.

"You know, Theodred loved to do what you are doing as a boy. He was always pretending that he was already King,"

I looked at Theoden and managed a counterfeit smile. He had a contented, nostalgic look upon his face.

"One night, however, he stayed up for hours with me, for the lord of Dol Amroth had just adjusted his trade agreements with Rohan and all of his fiefs were seeking to adjust their own terms. As you can imagine, there was quite a bit to sign, and plenty of questions from our own fiefs to answer,"

I nodded.

"Well, Theodred stayed up a hint too late, I think, for he began signing his own name instead of mine,"

Theoden chuckled and shook his head. I found a hint of comfort in his happiness until I saw him lift his eyes to the ceiling. In his eyes, tears reflected the glow of coals in the fireplace across the room.

I put my hand on his and he took it. He blinked once and then turned to me.

"The documents were sealed and sent to their rightful addressees. You can imagine what a nightmare that caused for me,"

"'Oh, the joys of parenthood!' Isn't that what you are supposed to say?" I asked, my voice thin.

Theoden nodded, and grinned. He squeezed my hand once before returning to his quill.

When the sun did indeed rise, and the servants of Meduseld began to mill about, I took my leave and shrugged into the shadows of the Hall.

I came to Aragorn's chambers out of pure chance, or perhaps some preternatural bond I still had to the elf who lay inside, but as I stared at the door, my mind was made.

The room was empty save Legolas, who laid on a bedroll beside Gimli's cot. Aragorn, I assumed, was atop one of the guard towers as he often was. Gimli was undoubtedly pillaging the kitchens.

But Legolas lay still, his eyelids flickering as he dreamed. The sight was beautiful, gentle. The fragment of me that had noted the weather now rejoiced.

The still, sorrowful majority of my soul smothered the insurrection at once.

With no emotion behind the action at all, I took Legolas' hand in mine.

His eyes opened at once.

"Calahdra?"

Avoiding his eyes, I swallowed. "Yes,"

"What…what is the matter?" he asked, reaching out with his free hand to stroke at my face. I flinched.

His hand fell away.

Shame fell through the cracks of my carefully crafted façade. I knew, despite the warning in my refrozen heart, that I owed him far more than the truth.

"I lied to you, Legolas…,"

His hand slipped out of mine, and I looked up. I grazed over his eyes, fearful of falling into them.

"I remember,"

"Everything?"

A stubborn nose dipped to the floor in a nod.

I stood and looked to nowhere in particular.

"I do not know what to say," the words were faulting, slowly released from lips that did not wish to speak.

Legolas sat up, mindful of his injury. He took my hand, but not as a lover or even as a friend. He took my hand as if to restrain me.  
"I…We need time, Calahdra. We need to focus on other things for a while,"

A tendril of fire uncoiled through the walls of ice.

"Time? Time is something we do not have, Legolas. You feel it as well as I do. The enemy is pressing forward. This life we know now will end too soon,"

Legolas said nothing. His hand fell from mine and onto his lap. I looked down at him, my eyes resting on the part of his golden hair.

"There is time, as petty as it may seem. But I do not wish to spend the few days I have left…,"

He said nothing more, but even without having insight into his thoughts, I knew how the sentence might have ended.

"I have made too many promises, Legolas. I have stretched myself too thin," I looked downwards at my palms, running dry fingers over calloused palms. "I do not know what is to become of me,"

"You know. You have always known. And though I was bent on convincing you that we, together, had a future, you were right all along. We are both going to die,"

An uncontrollable tremor ran along my spine. The shard of hope within me let loose a final, shattering cry before the darkness tamped it out.

"Then there is no future for us,"

Legolas looked up at me, but he did not meet my eyes either.

"No, there is not,"

Theoden rested his hand on my thigh. I jumped at the sudden contact, having been paying no attention to his words at all.

"Calahdra," he said sharply.

"My lord?" the matte voice was not my own.

Yet Theoden responded to it anyways. "Go sleep. You are no use to me while you are dead on your feet,"

Lacking the strength to offer a rebuttal, I simply nodded and turned away from his throne.

But as I stepped off of the dais, a voice called from the opposite end of the hall, halting my departure.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!"

Theoden had risen, and now looked to Aragorn. All eyes were on the man now running wildly to throne of the King.

"Gondor calls for aid," Aragorn said, stopping short before Theoden.

A tangible silence scattered through the hall. Theoden's disapproval of aiding Gondor was widely known. Many now awaited his answer with thundering pulses.

The King raised his head and looked Aragorn squarely in the eye.

"Then Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!"

The world began to spin, and as I clutched at a pillar for support, I realized that the end was now in sight.

Eomer, having been consoling a shocked Eowyn, beckoned me to him.

"Abered has not yet recovered. You will muster his Eored, Calahdra,"

I nodded tersely, not yet recovered from the astonishment burning through my body.

I did as Eomer bade, and I saw to it that the hundred and twenty riders were assembled and readied for the ride to Dunharrow even in the ensuing chaos upon the streets of Edoras.

Taking only a few minutes to ready myself, I returned to my quarters and slipped on my full battle gear. Dressed in a mass of leather, mail, and weaponry, I stood before my mirror.

The reflection was pale and sallow, dwarfed by the armor she now wore. Where her eyes had once been were shadows, reflecting only the little life needed to keep the creature inside alive.

I turned away, sickened by the unnatural reflection. When I left my room, I locked the door without even a modicum of sorrow or regret and cast the key beneath the door. I would not return. And I would not cling to the possessions inside.

Unwillingly, I found my way to the stables and stood outside Meleare's door. She was silent, unmoving as she took note of me.

I could not hear the sarcastic yet saccharine greeting I was so accustomed to. I did not expect I would ever hear it again.

Like I would have done with any other beast in the stable, I saddled her noiselessly, pulled a bit into her mouth unapologetically, and yanked her mane into rough braids meant merely for convenience.

I felt nothing. Nothing but a bitter pulse rendered mute by a frozen gloom. It was as if I was already dead.

On the courtyard before Meduseld, the wails of women and children and lovers were rendered voiceless. The din in my head, filled with the dense matter of nothingness, drowned them out.

Only Eomer's voice came to me.

"Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan – oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all – to Lord and land!"

And so I would, until death took me from the existence on this earth I had effectively squandered.

I rode from Edoras knowing full well that I would not return to it again. The city had held my heart now for nearly half a year, and now I would leave the useless organ with it.

Behind me, a column of Eored followed. Behind me were the men I would lead into death. They, like I, were merely waiting out the days until they came to it.

Legolas had been right. There was time.

And all that I now had was time. The fleeting, futile era between this day and the last was the only possession I laid claim to. For death, the sanctuary of oblivion, was all that I had left.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Please, review.


	33. Chapter 32: Promises

Author's Chapter Notes:  
I only recently realized that when I've been uploading updates to this site, the page breaks I've been using to seperate flashbacks and scenes haven't been transferring. So for those of you that have been having trouble distinguishing flashbacks from actual scenes, that may be why. I then realized that the sundry sentences cut-offs were because I was trying to add line breaks in Document Uploader/Preview tool. This has thoroughly pissed me off, because it means that I have to go back through each chapter and re-upload it with the proper html codes in place. I've given up on that endeavour, because the thought of re-uploading all 32 chapters makes me feel physically ill. Does anyone know if using OpenOffice instead of Microsoft Word would automatically transfer line breaks and italics and such? I'm seriously considering switching to OpenOffice if it would...

Anways, please revisit Chapter 29 a.) because I just posted the OFFICIAL NON-SCREWED UP VERSION. and b.) because what Calahdra recalled in that Chapter is vital to this chapter.

Enjoy! -Whisper

* * *

The encampment at Dunharrow became nightmarish quite quickly. A teeming mass of Soldiers, and an equal number of horses, had set up hasty tents in the shadows of the Mountain. Somewhere in that mass were my brothers, as well as Aldor and my father's men. But the thought brought with it no emotion at all. Merely recognition of the fate of all of Rohan's soldiers.

When she noticed that I was aimlessly following Eomer about instead of Legolas, Eowyn offered to share a tent with me. Her intuition, like any woman's, was dead on. But unlike most, she did not pry.

We pitched our tent between Theoden's behemoth pavilion and Eomer's tent, silent as we went about the task. When at last our bedrolls were laid on the ground, Eowyn took my hand in hers.

"Tell me what happened, Calahdra,"

But I could not bring myself to tell her, for not only was the tale too unbelievable, it was also too painful to reckon with.

Eowyn sighed, and she dropped my hand. "I am going to see to the horses,"

And so she left, leaving me to stare at a canvas ceiling.

_"She is yours, Calahdra. You are her rider now,"_

I was too giddy to respond. Instead, I tossed my arms around the yearling's neck with a flamboyant shout.

I pulled my head out of the mare's hair to see my father watch on with a grin on his face. Even my mother, with her arms crossed around the black bodice of her dress, managed to turn up the corners of her mouth.

I pulled myself away and took a hunk of the mare's mane into my hand. I looked her seriously in the eye.

"We are a team, now, horse. Do you understand that? We are one in the same from this day forward. Like a true Eored,"

The horse was still for a moment, as if she understood. But a second later, she knocked her head into mine and began to lip at my nose.

I giggled despite myself.

The mare head-butted me once more, and then she turned about me in a tight circle.

"Happy birthday, Calahdra," my _Ada__ called. He took my mother by the arm and led her into the house, leaving my mare and me to frolic as we pleased._

Another memory pushed past the first.

_The putrid scent of rotting flesh caused the horse to rear backwards as it rounded a turn in the trail. The rider clung to its neck, frantically seeking to calm the frightened horse._

"Peace, Meleare. Peace,"

The horse settled down, but only after a moment or two of angry snorting.

The rider prodded her horse forward, wary of the increasing pools of gore that splattered the trail. She had seen this before, after the first of the flocks were discovered missing.

Of course, a week had passed since then. The wolf had grown hungry again.

Only this time, the desperate creature had carried off a foal.

The mare slowed as they came upon what remained of that foal.

The rider inhaled sharply, fighting off a powerful bout of nausea. All feelings of illness passed as a sinister growl sounded from the brush behind the corpse.

The mare paced backwards, and the rider, knowing that she did not have enough time to dismount, pulled her bow from her back with a curse.

Knocking an arrow, the rider found her mark. The wolf was stepping closer now, edging out of the shadows of the surrounding trees.

The horse, still making its way backwards, stepped upon a wayward rock and sidestepped in alarm, letting free a whinny of terror.

The wolf lunged, and the rider let loose her arrow. The horse screamed as the wolf's claws raked over her left foreleg. And although the creature lay dead, the horse screamed in panic, stomping again and again upon the mangy animal.

"Meleare, stop!" the rider yelled, unable to dismount in the horse's frenzy.

But the mare's onslaught would not end. Fearing that her mare might have bolted at any moment, the rider reached within herself and unleashed a power she had not used before.

"Meleare stop," she repeated, pressing her will on the horse. But the neighing would not end, nor would the rearing.

Reaching further, the rider pressed her hand between the horse's ears.

'Meleare, stop this,'__

And the horse, startled by this new terror, did as she was told.

The rider, confronted with the brevity of her steed's base emotions, was rendered mute. It took some effort to release the connection.

But as she pulled away, she heard a cautious voice sound within her head.

'How can this be?'__

The rider shrugged, and aloud she said, "I am not quite sure,"

I pulled away from the recollection, having grazed upon a topic far too sensitive.

But an iron vice pulled me back into my reverie.

_"I will tell you how it is that you inherited this gift, Calahdra of Fenmarch,"_

The terrible voice had only one owner; it was the voice of the Eye.

_"No, no…,"_ I managed, pulling from the claws now ensnaring my mind. I opened my eyes, desperately hoping to see the plain surface of canvas.

Instead, I saw dark. But the dark evaporated as the voice laughed; a laugh that was a mixture of growling, screams, and bliss. And although it made my blood curdle and my skin crawl, it was extraordinarily seductive.

And when the laughter faded away, so too did the empty void. Before me now was the Eye I had so feared.

And before him, on a pedestal of rock and magma, I was naked, left transparent for his pleasure.

_"Since the beginning of days, the Eldar have been better attuned to reading the wishes of men's hearts. And in some of their lines, this gift has been amplified into something more,"_

At once, a vision of Galadriel came to my mind. But the vision, having stepped out of the confines of what was safe in my psyche, was cruelly dispersed by the will of the Eye.

_"You received this gift as few others do, despite your quartered blood. You, child, are a wondrous anomaly,"_

The voice laughed its sinister laugh once more, and as he did so, lashes of flame flew out from the Eye to graze my exposed flesh. I screamed not in pain, but horror as the darkness passed through my flesh and began to assault the deep recesses of my mind. I fought to protect the memories, the secrets, the knowledge I possessed. But with every word, the Eye's strength grew and my energy waned.

_"You shall become my puppet, Calahdra. Your secrets shall become my own,"_

"No," I whispered into the face of the fire, panting as my breath was sucked from me. Heat, intolerable heat, penetrated my skin, my bones, my soul. It was a torture beyond mere pain.

And yet my mind held. And the Evil's anger grew as his assaults failed.

_"You cannot resist against me, child. Do you have no knowledge of who I am? I am Sauron, the hand of the Great Power, Melkor. You are naught but a plaything to me, child. I shall break you,"_

I writhed as his words became weapons. Like shards of glass, the knowledge of who the Enemy was, no matter how obvious, ascended upon my being with violent impact.

_"Why?"_ I whispered, falling now to my knees as the waves of assault became too much.

But my desperate question must have been one of poignancy, for the onslaught halted for a moment. In the interim, I strove in secret to place some of my crumbling defenses back in place; shoving the remains of long-forgotten reminiscences back into the seeping holes of my mentality.

_"Why? Because you will aid me in the days to come, Calahdra. When the war is won and Gondor burns, you shall be my envoy in the __land__ of __Rohan__. A ruler you shall be over the horse-people, and you shall tear them from their archaic ways. A mighty queen you shall become,"_

Evil he may have been, but Sauron was not lacking in rationale.

The logic in his plan was eerily seductive, for the people trusted and revered me. When Theoden was dead and the Rohirrim fallen at the gates of the White City, my people would accept my leadership without question if I offered them protection. And they would unknowingly fall under Sauron's sway.

_"Very good, Calahdra. You see it now… the splendor of this future. You could have the fame you desire, the love and adoration you deserve. I swear to you that this shall be yours. Everything you could ever have wished for is in your grasp,"_

The temptation was so great, palpable even. Sauron would release me from this torture. The death I was so certain of would fade from view. My people, the people of Rohan, would be safe.

The Enemy would no longer be _my_ enemy. I would fight no longer. There would be peace.

_"All you must do,"_ the voice said, enveloping my urgently laid ramparts, _"is open your mind to me,"_

Peace.

_If a person's single purpose for existence was to destroy that of others, did they even deserve a second life?_

I would have my second life whether I deserved it or not…

And yet, how many lives would I destroy if I accepted Sauron's offer?

For but a moment, a vision of Legolas, pale in death, broke through the iron bars holding the great Eye to me.

I lifted my head to stare into the vortex of flame and enticement. I may have been blinded by his pretense, but not by the temptation of his honey-coated sin.

I opened my mouth, and before the malicious tendrils could seek to gag me, I cried out in defiance.

_"NO!"_

The iron, the flame, the shadow. All of it imploded. The discordant voice cried out, screeching in a foul concoction of Quenya that I did not understand. And as I closed my eyes and held out my hands to ward off his wrath, the pain faded.

I opened my eyes and saw a vaulted ceiling of canvas above my head, rendered grey as night had fallen.

My breath came in sweeping, ragged wheezes for a while. When I regained the strength to move, I ran my hands over my body, searching for the burns and gore I expected.

But I was whole. Physically, I was unscathed.

My mind, however, was not in a similar state. The threat of Sauron's invasion was still imminent, for my protections and walls had crumbled. The thoughts of the various soldiers outside mixed haphazardly with memories of my childhood. Conversations with the laundress Marmagen blended unevenly with my mother's curses at me. Fantasies of Legolas and I making love were interchanged with nightmares of me strangling Eomer or running him through with my sword. The bodies of the orcs I had killed on the ramparts of Helm's Deep were replaced with horse heads and the rotting corpses of children.

The scrap of rationality that remained claimed that I had been driven mad.

It also told me, in my father's bold, gritty voice, that I was a threat to my people. That to stay in Dunharrow was as good as inviting Sauron into my bed.

I stood, shaking so viciously that I fell and was forced to stand again.

A cloaked figure entered the tent, and a scream tore through my throat.

"Calahdra?" it asked, clearly concerned. As my eyes focused on her, I saw tears in her eyes instead of the murder I expected.

"Eowyn?"

"Aragorn has left. He has taken the Paths of the Dead,"

Sending my consciousness down the trail, I confirmed her claim. With Aragorn also was an elf and a dwarf.

_"You abandoned me,"_ I called to the elf, effortlessly breaking through my own promises.

_"I had no choice. My place is with Aragorn. Yours is with Theoden,"_

"My place should have been with you. We should have died together,"

I felt as Legolas' memory, one of my anger falling upon him and ripping open his flesh and his will, buffeted me. Anguish panged within me, but cold resolve was the substance with which I reacted.

_"My power was unleashed in anger. I never meant to harm you. I did not know what it was that I was capable of…,"_

"But the anger, Calahdra, that was of my doing…,"

I felt then Legolas' own shame. The blame he placed on himself was as great as my own.

_"For all of our love for each other, neither of us had the courage to push through our pasts. As strong as we appeared on the outside, Calahdra, we are _both_ broken within,"_

I had not known. The thought that Legolas had demons of his own had never even dawned upon me.

For he had been my knight, my hero. And I had, in my mind, made him out to be more than he was capable of being.

He was not, after all, one of the Valar. And despite being an elven-prince, he had the same soul as I or Aragorn or Gimli or even Meleare.

In the end, we were all made of the same stuff.

My nostalgia, my grief, my understanding passed as quickly as it had arisen.

I shook my head, and Eowyn's brow furrowed as she observed my behavior. _"It means nothing now,"_

"You are wrong, Calahdra. What we were shall always be. Even when we have passed on into legend and our corpses have turned to ash, what we shared will live on," 

Tears fell from my eyes and onto the loam beneath my feet. Eowyn was backing away, horrified by the insanity of my episode.

Before me now was a lesser fate than that of love.

_"Goodbye,"_

The last pieces of what remained of my heart crumbled to dust. My intentions, the obvious protection I was obligated to take, became clear to me. All that became clear to Legolas was my inevitable suicide.

His voice, as if carried on the wind, cried out to me.

But I tore myself away from him before he could convince me otherwise, and looked to Eowyn.

"Your Uncle asked me to insure that you left Dunharrow before the men ride out tomorrow. His command was that I see that you safely on your way to Edoras before I joined the Rohirrim,"

Eowyn, still plainly terrified of me, nodded.

"I ask this of you now. Ride out in my stead. Ride out in my stead and protect our King,"

Resolutely, I unbuckled my sword belt and rested Mearling in her hands.

"This is the sword of my forefathers, wrought of their blood and their heritage. It is my wish that you wield it for me, Eowyn, before the gates of Minas Tirith,"

Bewildered, Eowyn took the sword from me. "Why do you do this? Are _you_ abandoning your men as well?"

I looked out at the many fires now painting the mountain side. I sent a silent prayer to each one.

"No, Eowyn. I am upholding my oaths. In this, I am protecting them, and I am protecting my King,"

For if I stayed, and Sauron succeeded in invading my mind, not only could I become his marionette, but it would become known to him also that all of Rohan's forces marched upon the enemy in secret.

If I fell under his sway, all would be lost. If I destroyed myself, hope would remain.

Eowyn's voice broke through my panicked rationalizations.

"But there are so many that love you, Calahdra. My brother, least of all…,"

I gave Eowyn a skeptical look which must have transferred as something far more menacing.

"I love you, Calahdra, as a sister,"

This statement somehow registered, for it was something I could return. I wished so badly to tell her the truth; that I loved her too, for she had been so kind to me. But I choked back the sentiment, for to hurt her any further with words of affection would simply add to my sins.

"I have forsaken family, Eowyn. I no longer recognize the word,"

I had seen her world die once before, on the steps of Helm's Deep. I watched once more as Eowyn's world died again.

But I now knew what such a thing felt like. And, having been tempered to the cruelty of it, I stared upon her with my cold eyes, seemingly unfazed.

Eowyn looked away. "I will do as you ask, Calahdra, for it is my will to ride to war whether you would allow it or not. And remember this; you know of your oaths, and you know now of my brother's feelings for you. I would not cast such things away so idly, for there are some who would die for what you have been given,"

The White Lady retreated into the gloom of the encampment. Ashamed, I did not follow her withdraw for long.

I looked then to the stars.

_'Perhaps, just maybe, I shall become a star. Perhaps, like the heroes of old, I too shall dot the heavens,'_

A final, crystalline tear rolled over my jaw. And as it fell to the ground, I watched as it, like so many of the promises I had made, shattered.


	34. Chapter 33: Apparitions

I slipped out into the night on foot, carrying nothing with me but a hunting knife. My mail and long bow lay beneath my bedroll.

When at last I had slipped out of the encampment, I turned northeast. And I ran as I had never run before.

I fell back into terror before long, and I soon lost all sense of direction.

_'Why do you do this?' _

It was my own voice, now doubling back through my consciousness, burrowing through graphic visions of rape and torture.

"Because," I whispered, blinking back wind stricken tears, "I must protect them. I must die,"

_'You could take Sauron's offer. You do not have to die,'_ My voice had grown into the seductive growl of the aforementioned.

"No. No, I cannot,"

My mother's face, twisted by age and wickedness into a gruesome memory of her true beauty, loomed before me. _"You are a coward, Calahdra,"_

I shook my head, and spun to the right, quickening my pace.

But my mother, upon a black steed, followed me. "Suicide is a coward's vice,"

"You do not understand," I looked her in the dull, empty sockets that had become her eyes, "You never understood me,"

"Oh, yes I did,"

Her steed evaporated and, with a grace that was as fearsome as it was unnatural, she drifted to the ground before matching my pace.

"I still do. For we are one in the same, my daughter, my reflection. You have taken the same path. You lead the same life"

"Liar,"

Legolas' face, contorting in on itself, let loose a violent scream as he fell back through an oaken pillar and into nothingness. I leapt away from his corpse as I had a thousand times that night.

"Am I? Imagine it, Calahdra. We were trapped, bound by grief. And then a stranger came into our lives. Naively, we fell in love, or at least convinced ourselves that we had. And we bound ourselves to a worse fate, for we threw away who we were for what we thought we could become,"

Her rationale, like the Eye's, was impeccable. And yet I refused to see it. For a moment, her apparition flickered out, and I saw the truth, beaming with all the power of the sun, loom behind her.

"But we did not choose the same things, Erdolliel. You chose love. I chose duty. You lost the will to fight for a purpose, a destiny. And I shall die for mine, _my_ destiny. That is where our similarities end,"

My mother laughed, a harsh, broken laugh. "You're father's stubbornness has worn off on you. So be it. Like him, you shall die in vain,"

As if caught in some vortex, her being was spun up into the air. And she disappeared.

Heat lightening, brilliant in its madness, lit up the landscape. About me, the plains of Rohan passed by.

For a moment, I saw clearly. I saw the very bones of the land I was racing to protect.

_"But why then are you running? You have a weapon. Finish yourself now,"_

The sky burned. Crows that were not there called to me as if I was carrion.

"I shall run on as I always have, and I shall die when I can run no more,"

And now, as each bolt of light broke the surface of the earth, flames sprung up in walls and hurdles. With every passing second, I began to forget that they were but figments of my imagination.

Broken, bleeding, burning, I raced on.

_~"This is war," my father said, bending to lift a scorched rag doll from the pile of ashes. "War is not death, nor murder, nor any other crime. War is the way that this," he handed the doll to me, and it crumbled to dust in my hands, "makes you feel,"_

I looked up and stared incoherently at the sight before me. The skeletons of burned buildings rose up over the remains of the dead.

"This is war, Calahdra. Do you choose to fight it? Do you choose to devote yourself to ending this madness?"

Rain began to fall, dousing the surface of the earth in steam.

The sky was weeping. The gods were sobbing over this waste.

And I, at the age of fourteen, made it my vow to avenge those who had died that day.~ 

I was not sure when I had collapsed, but I awoke to great lips slobbering against my nose.

A bay mare, with a savage light in her eyes, stood before me now.

"Meleare?"

The horse, fully tacked and covered in a thin coat of sweat, snorted defiantly.

_"Did you think you could leave me behind? Without a word, you could sneak off into the night?" _

As happy as I wished I could have been, I felt only misery.

_"Do not follow me, Meleare. I will lead you only to death,"_

Meleare knelt and nudged her head against my hand.

_"I have always known that, Calahdra. I chose that fate many years ago," _

I sighed, and I pulled myself up onto her.

_"Where must we go?" _

I looked to the northern horizon. On it danced an ethereal light.

_"There,"_ I told her, pointing to the glow, _"That is where our story shall end," _

And so we came to it, only to find that the glow had faded to a simmer as the burning fief fell to dust.

A great wrath grew up in me, for I recognized the emptied city as that of Elmarch, Fenmarch's sister in the Eastemnet.

Meleare shook her head with anguished whinny.

_"This was my mother's pastureland. This was the place of my foaling,"_

My hands tightened about her reigns, for our minds had been connected so long that her emotions had become my own.

_"We must go on, Meleare. The place is near,"_

It felt near. Like Legolas had called to me as I sat before the Snowbourne, a similar force compelled me as I neared the Anduin.

And so we pushed on into the east, our souls sprinting towards the brightening horizon.

And as the sun rose, I felt the land tremble. The armies of Rohan had awoken. The foul creatures of Mordor had but a day before our vengeance would fall upon on them.

At midmorning, a new evil was cast upon me.

Wracked with fever, I was forced to lash myself to Meleare's saddle with her reigns. Having tossed her bit aside, she was led by nothing more than my will.

The assault came soon after.

_"Did you think you could run from me, Calahdra? Silly girl. You cannot outrun what you have become. For I am everywhere, everything. I am your blood, your body, your breath._

"Give unto me, my queen," 

And as Sauron spoke, his words became true, for my body felt as if it had gone up in flames. A scream fell from my lips.

_"Meleare,"_ I whispered to her, preparing to sever the bond to save her mind, _"You must run. You must see to it that I die,"_

I felt her anguish, but as the malice and flames licked at her conscious, she complied.

And, for the last time, I distinguished our union. As I did so, a shattering blow fell upon my psyche. Memories, hallucinations, apparitions of the dead floated out into the tortuous furnace I was once again bound to.

_"Give up, Calahdra. Break open your mind and free yourself,"_

But I held my defenses, wrapping the thin, steel band of my will around the secrets I held, the oaths I had made, the love of my life.

When Legolas spoke out to me, his words were as real as they were imagined. _"My love for you will live on, Calahdra. Go now in peace, to Mandos…," _

Through the wall of flame obscuring his ghost, I reached out to the gold I adored, the irises of fire and sea foam and ivy that I had been lost in so many times, a muttered curse bubbling on my bleeding lips. And as my fingers grazed his lips, I was cruelly tugged away and below. Rushing through time and space and air, the confines of my mind broke at last, and all I had once known was left behind in scattered rubble as I fell.

Down, down. Through broken promises and ignorant vows. Crashing through memory and wisdom, through the fierce lances of love lost and the slow, pulsing arsenic that had been my consuming hatred. Freezing, falling, fading.

Into the void at last.


	35. Chapter 34: Change

The soldiers happen upon a body sometime in the night. At first, their reactions are unchanging, the same blank gazes emptying out through their eyes, for they have been conditioned only to see the corpses of orcs and their comrades. But as seconds pass, realization culminates into confusion. _Who is this girl, half-dressed in rags that match the tones of our armor?_ they wonder. Speculation meanders amongst their quiet words to each other.

One man gathers the body up into his arms. _So light_ he thinks as he draws what is left of her cloak over the bloodied expanse of her pastel skin.

Another picks a pair of jewels from the mud beside her. He rinses them in the river, and as they begin to gleam again, a crowd gathers about. Their fevered conjecture begins anew upon the sight of these tokens.

The men agree on one point; she is to be taken to their Marshal. He will know what is to be done with her.

If she had appeared as anything else, they would have left her to die. But something calls to these men; some indefinite innocence that bleeds through her garish wounds. The haunted expression on her face does not drive them away; rather, it pains them into pity for this wayward creature.

Moreover, she captivates them subliminally. In their hearts, they see through her alien guise and feel in her the same song that binds them all. She is of their kind, if only in the blood now barely pulsing through her.

A pack of them see to it that she arrives safely in their camp. These men, although having only been in this land for three days, have mastered the terrain of this river. The Anduin is theirs to keep safe, and safe thus far they have kept it.

A league passes beneath their feet. A mass of tents and firelights appears from behind a secluded moor. A camp of what had been three thousand only a day ago has now ebbed to a third of that number. And yet the expanse of what remains is thrilling.

The crowd grows as they pass into the encampment, moving to the heart. Like a wake, they appear behind the ghost they carry.

Men look on with curious eyes, staring at the bare skin and the bloodied hair of the fallen angel. She appears familiar to some, and almost all feel the same, subconscious kinship to this girl. But she remains nameless. An anomaly.

They come to the center of their fortress. Here lie the wounded and the ill. Healers work even in the gloom of a waning moon to recover some of their fading numbers. Bloodshot eyes of those marred now with scars and sutures find more in this body than those that are whole. In her, they see green meadows, twilit groves, the smiles of their lovers whom they dream are still alive. In her damages, they find life once again.

She is carried further, until she rounds a turn in the rows of canvas and soldiers. Feet from the ornate tent that holds their captain, a soldier tears his eyes from the veiled stars and looks over her body. He breaks his solace, his mourning silence, and calls out to her.

Eyes turn to this man and rake over his frame. This is the one they call 'Unsung' in their tongue, for though his eyes carry words beyond their years, he speaks little and sings never.

The one without a song races to the pale wraith in the arms of another. He takes her hand in a bandaged hand of his own and tenderly brushes sweat and hair from her brow with the other.

Furtive glances question his sanity. _Do you know her? _they ask, _or are you merely lost in your grief as you have been these last few days?_

"No," he speaks aloud to their silent inquiries, "This is my sister. This is our Shieldmaiden,"

The healers pry the Shieldmaiden from the hands of bewildered men. Now, they simply watch, for they have found that her wounds are not those that can be healed with poultice or stitch.

Her back is a mass of bruises, from a fall that they have not factored into their list of assumptions. Her forearms are slashed from self-mutilation that she herself will never remember. Her fever persists, but not from an illness or poison that could be prescribed.

Yet, even in these men's ignorance and practicality, they sense in her a breakage and a hemorrhage that was not born of flesh or bone. Though they do not understand it, for they possess none of the skills that might have mended her ailing mind, they recognize it.

All they do now is wait, watching her when they can but leaving her for other patients more often than not. But she is not alone, for the one who has called her sister stays at her side.

He whispers in a language that none in that camp would have recognized. It is a language he has only recently learned, and he speaks it hesitantly, as if he is unsure of the power of his own words. But the affect is the same whether he pronounces them or not, for that is the way of that noble language.

Eventually, the spoken Sindarin hymns rouse the woman from her coma. She awakes in a panic, her eyes rolling this way and that. The healers rush to her side, and the man is pushed away. He watches in a bastion of hope and despair as too hot broth is poured down her throat, as her nude body is prodded by the hands of strangers. She is gagged when she resolves to screams. He feels the terror exuded from her writhing body. And though he knows better than to intercede, he cannot help it.

He pushes past all of them and looks into her eyes. A moment passes in which she is silenced, in which the room is thick with silence.

The wild terror vanishes from her face as she remembers.

"Lenwe," she murmurs, and she reaches up to stroke his face as the rest of her body recoils. The paradigm of her actions is noticed by those that look on the two, and looks of alarm pass between the them. A pair of healers pull the man from the tent, and the rest return to the girl.

Brought forth to Lenwe is Elfhelm, Marshal of these men. He looks over the elf-man with a guarded look.

"She has awoken?" A rhetorical question meant for the healers, for Elhelm looks with disdain towards the shrieks coming from the tent.

"Yes, lord," one replies, lowering his head.

"She will not quiet unless they leave her be, Marshall," Lenwe says, begging that the stern knight will hear him out.

Elfhelm looks over him. He has dwelt with men long enough to learn the difference between truth and lies. In Lenwe, he cannot be certain of what he sees.

But the elf-man cares not, for the screams have grown both louder and greater in distress.

"She despises healers, Marshal. Calahdra has hated them ever since she was seven,"

In this, Elfhelm sees truth ring through. He nods once to the healers. "Call them off. Let us see to her,"

The girl lies now in a pained sweat. Though she is in more anguish than she has ever felt before, she is grateful that the healers have left her.

Two shadows stand yet before her though. When she has calmed herself, she looks up into their faces. She recognizes both.

And Elfhelm sees in her the matured reflection of a child he once saw riding before Cahlan of Fenmarch. Before him now is what is left of Rohan's dawn, a glimmer that drowns behind the veil of night.

He no longer doubts her, nor her brother.

But he sees also what the healers have suspected. A dark plague eats away at her, as though she is already dead and rotting.

And as the two watch her, see her laborious breathing, the weight laying yet upon her brow, she falls once more into something that is a mockery of sleep.

Elfhelm turns and takes Lenwe by the shoulders. "My healers have not the ability to heal her wounds, for this malady is of the sort that buries itself ever deeper. You must take her to the Houses of Healing. You must ride swiftly, Calhan's son. We cannot let our Shieldmaiden perish,"

Lenwe agrees, but he says nothing. Born in him now is hope, and in Lenwe's heart is the hope for Redemption.

A day has passed, and in a secluded hollow at the easternmost foothills of the White Mountain lays a fire, a horse, and two restless siblings.

Calahdra stares listlessly at stars she cannot see. The emotion that registers in her eyes is of an eerie, indefinable kind.

In Lenwe is a warmth, but also a fear. He has not seen his sister in over three years, and he rejoices in having found her again. But this wraith is not his sister. This silent figurine is but a memory of her.

He has tried to make her speak, to pull words from her. But she has lost the will.

She does not know why she has survived, nor does she wish to know. She had been so sure of her death. As sure as she had been of so many things that had once been good and pure in her life.

And she does not know why the evil she faced before has not returned to claim her mind, for her defenses are but a comical remembrance now. Her thoughts lie open for all to read.

One fact has piqued her shallow musings, however. Although she can clearly read the thoughts of her brother's steed, she cannot read Lenwe's thoughts. She muses upon this, wondering if it is because he simply has nothing to think about. But she grows bored with speculation, and instead falls back into a landscape of blanket blackness.

Lenwe notes this, and he fears as he has all day that she will not return from it.

For Lenwe has discovered that he, too, has gained his sister's ability. He, too, can read minds and speak to beasts.

Calahdra had once though it to be a gift. Now they both live with the opinion that it is a curse.

"Cal?" he asks, shifting to look at her from across the fire. She lies on her side, her brother's cloak propped behind her blackened back. Shadows dance over her wan face.

She blinks, and turns her head to peer at him. The nickname, having not been used since _he_ last used it awakens something within her that survived.

For a moment, Lenwe sees this light, this flash of gold. He pounces on it.

"Are you sure you are not hungry?"

Calahdra considers this question. In truth, she is. But she cannot come to answer as such.

The will to die, though having faded to naught but the strength of a single heartbeat, is still the strongest impulse within her.

Lenwe flinches as she comes upon this realization.

"Why?" is his automatic reaction.

"Why?" she repeats, now turning to lie on her stomach. Lenwe watches in wonder as she accomplishes the feat, unable to offer to help. The sound of her voice, for only the second time, has rendered him silent.

She raises an eyebrow, perching it on a forehead that is splattered with mud. Lenwe takes in the sight, of that normally sensual expression now on the feverish face of one who is dying. Her emaciated body is drowning in one of his tunics, and her arms are bound by blood stained bandages. If he had not been her brother, Lenwe doubts that he would have thought that there was hope for this creature.

"Why do you wish to die?"

Calahdra contemplates answering this question. She decides against it, but the words fall from her mouth anyways.

"Because I was a threat, Lenwe. I chose to desert my men before I was given the chance to betray them,"

Lenwe notices the use of the past tense. He finds comfort in this.

"Betray them how?"

Calahdra licks dried blood from the craters of her lips. "Sauron was going to make me his queen,"

She expects Lenwe to laugh, to declare her mad, to say anything other than what he does.

"I understand, then,"

Calahdra begins to cough. Lenwe crawls to her and lifts her up into his lap. He lets water fall down into her throat from his canteen.

_She is so weak, yet so vibrant,_ he thinks. And she is.

For something within her, something with all the spirit in the world is fighting for her. And though it could not possibly be a will of her own devise, it is one that dwells within her as any other part of her does. It is something made of gold and viridian and the fey storm clouds of a passing gale.

Lenwe pushes this thought away, and sees to it that she is better. He pulls his saddle to them, and lays her chest down atop it. She rests her chin beneath a wad of one of his tunics.

Calahdra gives him a grateful smile. It surprises them both.

Lenwe pokes at the fire with a branch he has stripped of leaves.

"I have the ability to mind speak, Calahdra. I have felt the Enemy's presence,"

Calahdra looks through benevolent flames towards her brother. She, too, understands. For before the Enemy had said a word to her, she had felt him grow at the back of her mind.

She wonders when it was that Lenwe learned of this, and when it was that he learned Sindarin.

Lenwe answers to this. "When father fell, I returned home. I arrived in Fenmarch a day after you left, Calahdra. I stayed with mother until but five days ago, when the Muster was called,"

Calahdra is mesmerized by the flames, and how different they are from those that she saw in her waking nightmares, and she no longer looks at Lenwe. But she listens.

"I went through your things, read your books. And as I studied from them, I realized everything I am. I have learned so much…,"

Lenwe halts, suddenly overtaken by emotion. He does not cry, for that is not the way of ellyn.

Calahdra feels this, for it pours over the ramparts that he himself has made and into the night between them.

"I have changed, Calahdra. I am not who I once was,"

Lenwe stares at her through the fire. His eyes are filled with guilt, with love, with flames brighter than those that were between the siblings.

"Huor and I did a terrible thing to you, Calahdra. We committed a detestable sin against our own sister. And neither of us had the heart to repent while we had the chance,"

Lenwe rounds the fire pit again. He kneels before her, and takes her hand gingerly.

"I swear to you that I do not go a day without hating who I was because of it. But I have changed in immeasurable ways. I am a better person for it.

"Forgive me,"

Calahdra looks into the unrecognizable eyes of a brother whose gaze used to haunt her every step, her every dream.

She sees change, and she sees truth.

She sees the same things in herself. She feels, in that moment, as though she is capable of healing. She feels that if Lenwe is capable of such a thing, than why isn't she? For a moment, she feels the light that Lenwe had seen.

"Please, forgive me," he repeats. Calahdra is torn from the borders of her epiphany.

She speaks in truth when she says "I cannot forgive you, Lenwe, for you ruined a part of me that cannot be healed. Nor do I have it in me to forgive anyone, for it is not a strength that I possess,"

Lenwe breaks away from her, demolished by the words he should have been expecting to hear.

"But I can move forward, Lenwe. I can put the past aside. My trust will be hard to gain again, but if I have learned anything," Calahdra says this with a mournful smile, "it is that we all deserve second chances,"

And she remembers the suicide, the falling, the drowning. The memory comes back to her in full. She relives her life in a blink of an eye, and her mind, as if in reverse, folds up into something tangible. The shards fuse back together.

And though she is not healed, she is whole. Though she is still empty, her skeleton has reformed.

Lenwe feels this surge, and he witnesses every moment of it as her thoughts lay unguarded before her, and he is rendered silent in the marvel of it.

He watches as his sister runs her hand over her temple. She sighs in mixture of emotions; grief, joy, perception, confusion.

Calahdra forces herself to see through the memory that had blinded her before she passed into that void. Calahdra remembers the cliff, and she remembers Meleare screaming out as she pitched herself over stone and granite. And Calahdra remembers the lashes holding her to her saddle coming undone as air rose past her.

She does not remember the splash, nor the pain, nor the hours spent in a coma before she was washed up upon the banks of the Anduin.

"Meleare," she says, as if in a fog, "Where is Meleare?"

Lenwe gulps. This is a question he has been wishing that she will not ask.

"She did not survive, Calahdra. We found her body a ways down the river,"

Pain is undoubtedly clear in her eyes. But the fact that her eyes are clear now, and not masked as they had been before by misery and fever, is cause enough for at least a little joy in Lenwe's heart.

He takes her hand. "Meleare loved you, Calahdra. Never before was there a rider and a horse with a greater bond. Grieve for her, but only for a little while, for she was a great war horse with many feats to find _joy_ in, not pain,"

Calahdra knows this. And she does grieve for only a moment, staring blankly at the leather of the saddle before her nose. She breathes in the smell of horse and sweat and blood. She closes her eyes.

When she opens them, she watches as sparks shoot from the dying fire as it collapses in on itself.

"_Goodbye, my dear. I loved you as you shall never know. Find green pastures now, and fields of carrots, and many stallions to hassle and chase and curse." _

A broken smile crosses over a scarred face. Its brilliance taints the shadows still in her eyes, and the light begins to grow behind the wells of tears.

But Calahdra does not cry.

For a soldier does not cry for the fallen.

They startle some time in the night to the braying of Lenwe's steed. At first, Lenwe draws arms and passes a knife to Calahdra.

They find that it is only a family of voles that has startled the horse, and they rest easier.

But the excitement has awakened them, and they cannot fall asleep.

Lenwe rekindles the smoldering fire into a small glowing oven.

Calahdra looks over Lenwe's horse and realizes that not only does she not recognize it, but that it is also of a breed not native to Rohan.

Lenwe reads her thoughts, but he is loathe to tell her the story unless she asks of it.

And she does ask of it. "Who is this new horse? Where now is Fealoch?"

Lenwe sits cross-legged beside her. "It is a terrible tale, Calahdra. And in Fealoch's passing, another fell…,"

Pain burns behind amber eyes. Calahdra reaches to a hand resting limp on Lenwe's knee.

"Huor is dead, Calahdra. Huor and Fealoch fell upon the Pelennor,"

Calahdra is stricken. She had no love for either name, but Lenwe's loss is clear. Huor was his closest friend, and Fealoch his closest steed. To lose both was nigh unbearable.

"Huor had fallen out of my favor, Calahdra, for when he returned with tidings of you from Edoras, he had disgraceful things to say. I tried to have him see reason, to understand that your obligations were to the King, not to your family. I tried to convince him to repent against what we had done to you and how we had treated you after. But he would have none of it.

"I was not given the chance to speak to him as we had as brothers before he died, Calahdra. And when Fealoch fell, too, I felt as though I had lost everything,"

Calahdra ignores the incredible pain in her back and rises to embrace him. At first, he moves to push her back down, but he settles into her hold.

"I am sorry to hear of their deaths, brother. I wish I could ease your grief,"

Lenwe shakes his head. "Grief shall pass,"

"But tell me then of the Pelennor, Lenwe. We triumphed?" Calahdra speaks with the vibrancy that had shimmered before. Lenwe sees to it that she has settled down before he shares the tidings of war.

"Indeed we did. The city was almost overtaken, nearly breeched when we arrived at dawn. Such an army, I have never dreamed of, for the enemy was tens of thousands strong and was composed of every fell beast and race of men….And we ourselves nearly failed had it not been for Aragorn son of Arathorn,"

Calahdra's eyes grow unnaturally wide. She feels shallow and light, as if she might float away. "He lived? But he entered the Dwimorberg!"

"Aye, and with him he brought an army of the undead, as well as an elf and a dwarf of the likes of which I have never seen before. And with them, we vanquished all, save the Nazgul,"

Calahdra is overcome by this news.

_He is alive_

The words ring over and over, like a bell that is not stilled by the force of gravity. In fact, each toll grows stronger, threatening to consume her.

But a voice of reason, perhaps that of the Wisdom she has earned, holds back the tide.

_You shall cross that bridge when you come to it…if you come to it at all._

Lenwe sees her confusion clear, and he continues.

"The last stands of men and our allies now hold in Minas Tirith, preparing for the final battle, whatever that may be. King Eomer ordered Elfhelm into Anorien with three thousand knights, to hold the Anduin,"

Wisdom does not hold back Calahdra's panic this time, however.

"King…Eomer?"

Lenwe curses himself over and over, and shall continue to do so for the rest of his days. This was the news that he was supposed to break gentlest of all. For the Shieldmaiden above all others would be most aggrieved to have lost her King.

Lenwe struggles to console her as he tells her of Theoden's valiant passing. He tells her also of Eowyn's valor and the Hobbit's bravery.

But Calahdra does not hear the many synonyms for the word 'courage'. She merely matches the names to death and sees nothing else.

For a moment, she slips back into despair. But Lenwe catches her.

"You have a new King, Calahdra. You are bound to Eomer, now,"

Lenwe knows that there is little hope of Calahdra's oaths being renewed what with her deserting, for her story is too unbelievable for many to understand. Even if her alibi was believed, she has committed a grievous crime.

But Lenwe gives her a purpose anyways. He lays before her a false hope.

And though Calahdra is lured from despondency with this knowledge, her grieving does not cease. Her fever returns.

This time, Calahdra does not play the part of soldier.

This time, Calahdra plays the part of daughter, grieving for the loss of her father.

Her tears fall mercilessly until the fire dies out again.

When morning breaks, the two ride upon Lenwe's steed, Dacil. Calahdra falls into a fitful slumber before her brother. She dreams of all the many variations of Theoden's death. Every once and a while she screams, and Lenwe has to calm her before Dacil will go any farther.

Despite these halts, they arrive in Minas Tirith in only a few hours. By now, the Pelennor Fields are almost clear of bodies. Left now is merely a smog that hides the great pits of burning corpses and wrecked war machines from view.

The road is mostly empty, save the occasional messenger or host of those seeing to the cleansing of the field.

Lenwe fears that he will not be admitted through the ruined gates of the White City. To his surprise, no one stops him upon entering. For the truth is that no one expects anyone to willingly enter the disastrous city as of late.

Dacil passes through the many levels of the city in silence. Smoke and mist hide the riders from the view of others, and in the primordial gloom of the city, no one cares to notice them.

The city of Minas Tirith seems to be a ghost town, saved in physicality but not in spirit.

When at last Lenwe comes to the Sixth Level of the city, he finds himself in the mitts of a miracle. This level is teeming with the injured and their healers.

But there are no soldiers nor Captains of men to be seen. For the Great Host of the West emptied out of the city two mornings ago, and now trudges into the East.

All that remains in the city now waits in trepidation as their doom is decided by pawns that lie leagues away.

Dacil halts before the Houses of Healing, and the famished horse is enthralled by the smells of herbs wafting from the nearby gardens.

This is the last place in Minas Tirith that resembles life.

"Bair Nestad," Lenwe sighs. His arm fastens around his little sister, willing her to thrive once more in this place.

Before she is taken from him by another crowd of healers, Lenwe whispers sweet words to her.

"You have changed much, Calahdra. A Shieldmaiden you have become, and a harsh soldier. But I see more in you. I see tenderness, and vivacity, and the ability to forgive.

"If there are days ahead for any of us, then I see in them better days for you, my dearest sister,"

And Lenwe, having found his Redemption, places a kiss upon her brow and her jewels around her neck. He imparts with her, also, enough protection to ward off Sauron's will should he try to invade her mind again.

For war has changed them both, and where it had hardened some, it broke away the shells of others, and revealed in them something greater than all the strength in the world.

It has revealed love.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Review pleases! You will have my sincerest gratitude.

Also: Perspective and tense change. I know it came out of nowhere, but it was the only way that I knew how to express what needed to be expressed. Do I write 3rd person/present tense well, mediocre, or poorly? Please tell me, because I kind of like it and I think I'll use it more often in the future, but only if you think I have a knack for it.

Finally, a reviewer asked why it was specifically that Calahdra wanted to commit suicide. She asked me to recap the reasons why, so here it is: There is no one reason, but rather a culmination of several things.

Ultimately, Calahdra knew she was going to die, because that was the assumption that every soldier of Rohan rode to the Pelennor Fields with. But she was also quite depressed, and so while others feared death, Calahdra embraced it. And then came Sauron's attack on her mind. She knew that if he succeeded in fully entering her thoughts, not only could she possibly become his puppet and lead her people under his sway, but also that he would learn of Rohan's "sneak attack" on Minas Tirith. She knows that she must kill herself before he does so, but in her panic and paranoia she continues on running throughout the night until her last confrontation with him.


	36. Chapter 35: Healer

Wheat Thins fueled this chapter :)

Brief thanks goes to Realelvish and the Thain's Book. Far greater thanks is due to Tolkien.  
Enjoy :)

* * *

I had been dreaming before a squeeze to my hand awoke me.

In my fantasy, I had been climbing a tall tree into the Heavens at sunset. And when I had reached the top, I had looked out over the ascending boughs and seen white sails fluttering in a seaward breeze.

On the horizon was Valinor, and it called to me as nothing had ever called to me before.

"Is this what you choose, Calahdra? Do you choose eternity?"

Beside me was a woman clad in gray silk. She was beautiful, but sorrowful in her glory.

Though I had never seen the likes of her, I knew who she was.

"Estë,"

The Vala nodded once to me, and then turned away to watch the sunset caress the folds of the West.

"I do not know, my lady. I do not know if that is my fate,"

"The Valar will not extend this offer for long, Calahdra. We have found valiance in your deeds, for few could withstand the might of the Abhorred, but we have other tasks to see to. There are other prayers that we must answer,"

I looked out over the rustling leaves of the forest canopy, which rolled down and over the pearlescent beaches of the coast.

"How long do I have before I must decide?"

Estë followed my gaze to where it rested on the curving mass in the rose-tinted horizon. Her voice, like that of mourning doves, echoed throughout the falling twilight.

"You have seven days, should you survive them. And it is my hope, Calahdra, that you shall,"

Before I could ask anymore of her, I was struck silent by the spectacle before me. As the sun finally dipped beneath the edge of the earth, rays of lilac and honeysuckle snaked through the clouds overhead. The sun whispered its farewell in the sea breeze.

The Goddess of Sorrow turned to me, a faint smile appearing in her timeless eyes. "You have been the subject of much wrong-doing, Calahdra. I understand why it was why you lost hope for a future, but you must hear me now,"

Estë took my hands in hers, and I felt then her will begin to coil with mine. "You are meant for greater deeds, daughter of Rochand. You are not meant to fill a hole within the ground. You are meant to walk upon it and bring hope to the hearts of others. I charge you with this now; for all the days that you still walk upon the Earth, carry forth healing and strength into the hearts of those whose spirit has diminished. A warrior you shall remain, but not of the sort that breaks apart sinew and bone in order to avenge those whose time has past. Rather, you shall fight for those who have time yet but fail to see it.

"A healer in arms you shall be, unto the undoing of time,"

Estë sealed this vow with a tender kiss upon my brow, and as she did so I trembled. The touch of the Vala was nearly as powerful as her words, and the sensation spread throughout my veins.

"You shall not grieve any longer, for the path you walk will carry no resemblance to the path that lies behind you,"

Within the dream, a memory blossomed.

"_For no matter how badly we may wish to erase the yesterday we left behind, there is only tomorrow. There is only what lies ahead,"_

And in the depths of the Vala's parting glance, I saw Legolas.

"Let your grief become my own, for that is _my_ task to bear. And may your days be blessed, Calahdra,"

My eyes opened to a candlelit reality.

"Good morrow to you," came a voice beyond the shadows of my ill-adjusted eyes.

When at last my vision cleared, I found the speaker to be a good-natured woman in her latter years. She reminded me a little of Marmagen, and homesickness began to throb in my heart.

And as I realized that homesickness was indeed what I was feeling, a sense of wonder came over me.

My days with Lenwe had been clouded by either misery or apathy. I felt no such sentiment now.

_'Estë… to you I am eternally grateful,'_

I attempted then to return the woman's greeting, but my throat hissed and sputtered in its parched state.

The woman chuckled and turned to a pitcher and goblet. While she poured, I looked about the chamber I was in. A single window revealed that it was near midnight, and the room was lit by the glow of several candles.

I was not the only patient; in fact, I was one of many. Fallen soldiers littered cots and bedrolls throughout the chamber, and several healers were bent about the room, applying bandages and spoon-feeding their charges.

It seemed that Lenwe had been successful, and that he had deposited me in the Houses of Healing. The whimsical rooms of those that lay dying. Bitter in its irony, yet glorious in its purpose. A place where flowers bloomed above failing hearts.

I looked down at myself. I seemed whole, and I was dressed in a thin, gray dress. The sleeves had been cut to the elbows, and covering my forearms was a layer of bandages that encircled my palms.

Slowly, the healer helped me to sit, and I felt in my back the sort of stiffness that came from a hard day's ride. No longer did I wish to scream with agony as I had before, when it had felt as though several thousand shards of glass were embedded in my shoulders and spine.

When at last my thirst was quenched, I nodded to the woman in thanks.

"I am Maedeth, and I have been seeing to you this last day,"

"I thank you then, for you have worked a miracle on my back,"

Maedeth chuckled, and she placed in my hands a wooden bowl of thin broth.

"Tis' not your back anymore that is of concern, but your thanks is welcome,"

I gave the elderly healer an inquisitive look as I took a sip from the bowl.

"Your brother explained to elder healers and me what it is that happened to your mind. Though your physical ailments have been mended and your mind has been made safe, we expect you may become ill,"

"Why is that?"

Maedeth looked pointedly across the small chamber. I followed her gaze to the cot that laid there, and who it was that laid within it.

"Eowyn," I gasped, feeling the urge to run to her. She laid still in sleep, and not death as I had assumed. I recalled Lenwe's words, and though they remained woeful, they made better sense now.

Maedeth put a hand around my wrist. "She is well now, but she was terribly ill before. She succeeded in slaying one of the Nazgul, but in doing so she was poisoned gravely. If not for the skill of the King-to-be, Aragorn, she would have passed beyond shadow. We feared that a similar fate would be your own, and therefore I am to beg you to take caution,"

I did not respond to the healer, for my eyes were pasted to Eowyn's glassy pallor. I wondered if it had been Mearling that had brought death to Sauron's servant. I began to long for my sword.

"Where now is Aragorn? I wish to speak to him,"

Maedeth was quiet, and I turned to her, prepared to repeat my inquiry.

But Maedeth's expression stilled me.

"He passed out of the City three days ago, with a great host of all that remained of the armies of Rohan and Gondor. They are to stand before the Black Gate, and there they wish to seal the fate of our time,"

Horror began to churn my stomach.

But not of the sort that became the chilling vice grip I was used to.

Rather, my very veins filled with molten steel.

I refused to be left behind. For I was a warrior, a healer. Not a patient, bound by injury and infirmity.

I was a doer of great deeds, a soldier who struck out against malice. And if the time of men was to end before the Black Gates, then it was my creed to see that I too ended there before I succumbed to idleness.

"_I am the sword of Estë, and I shall _not _be left behind,"_

And so I tore from Maedeth's feeble grasp and bolted from the room, filled with a childish sort of impatience and a fury like that of wildfire.

Healers called out to me as I spun through the many chambers and arches. But I paid no heed to their alarm, and ran through the halls. Guided by mere instinct, I found my way to an exit.

The streets of Minas Tirith were bleached and faded by the subtle shimmer of Ithil, and I was grateful for the light, for the intuition that had led me out of the mazes of the hospital vanished as my feet met marble streets.

Never before had I stood before buildings as mammoth as those that confronted me. I had heard of the wonders of the White City before, but scarcely had I imagined simply how _large_ it was.

Quite frankly, I was frightened. I felt lost at once, dwarfed by the shadow of the Citadel and the many governmental buildings. And though it did not seem that the healers had followed me or called upon guards to retrieve me, I felt as though I was being followed anyways.

Like a child that has awoken from a bad dream, I broke into a sweat at the sight of so many shadows. Claustrophobia began to smother me.

I wandered about, gazing this way and that as the many sights of the sleeping city begged for my attention. The thought of walking through the city during day, when its inhabitants would be crowded about, nearly made me feel lightheaded.

Eventually, I descended a long set of stairs and found myself in what seemed to be a separate city entirely. Instead of grand marble monoliths and decorative archways, I found wooden shops and stone apartment buildings. And the further I walked, the more and more I was reminded of Edoras. I breathed easier as familiarity began to replace apprehension.

Intuition returned.

_'If Minas Tirith is anything like Edoras, than its barracks and stables would not be so near to the residential areas, but not so far from the Citadel either,'_ I thought, and with a deep breath I plunged through side streets and staircases into the depths of the city.

Before long, my path of travel became governed not by intuition but rather by the smell of horses. My nose had been trained to locate stables from miles away.

At last I came to the place I had been searching for; a Gondorian armory.

I looked for guards, but found none. I remembered then that the city had been emptied of soldiers, as well horses, and the thought renewed my haste.

The doors were locked and the windows closed, but my determination was not dampened. A savage kick to one of the lower lying window panes allowed for my entry.

I dressed myself in the smallest shirt of mail I could find, a leather jerkin, and a pair of riding breeches that I was forced to cut shorter in the legs. I stuffed the scraps that remained into the toes of a pair of riding boots. I chose also a gray cloak embellished with a pendant in the shape of one of the Seven Stars of Gondor.

When I set to clasping the cloak about my neck, I realized that two chains already hung there. I looked down in surprise, and realized that I was wearing the jewel of the Shieldmaiden and my mithril leaf. A slow smile flew up from my heart and into my eyes.

When confronted with a choice of weaponry, I pined once more for Mearling. Unable to confront the possibility of replacing my father's sword, I opted for a curved blade and shoulder harness that reminded me a great deal of Legolas' knives. I chose also a set of knives that I placed on a sword belt and the only long bow that remained. There were few arrows to my liking, and the bow itself was poorly wrought, but I accepted these shortcomings in silence.

_'Should I survive, I shall return to Rohan and empty my dowry upon a new bow. And I shall find Mearling again, or search to the end of the world to find its match,'_ I vowed, placing my palm over my heart.

When I came to the stable, I realized the brevity of the sin that I was preparing to commit. Horse thievery was punishable by death in Rohan, and I doubted that Gondorian steeds were worth any less no matter what their people's law might have been. For in Rohan, the bond between horse and rider was nearly as strong as that between husband and wife, for horses were as precious and costly as the keeping of a loved one was.

_'I shall commit this crime and atone to it before the Gates of Mordor, as I shall atone for all of my many sins,'_ I decided, placing my hand upon my heart once more.

I entered the stable with this pledge in my mind, and failed to recognize that, unlike the armory, the stable was not devoid of guards.

A blade was thrust before my breast, and I jumped back, startled.

"I shall kill you if you do not leave, wench!"

I eyed the speaker and nearly laughed.

The horse guard was a young boy, no more than ten years old. He had a hardy seriousness in his eyes, but his blade trembled. Perhaps it was because the knife was too large for him, or perhaps it was because he was secretly afraid.

"I do not wish to harm you, young master, but I must find a steed," I told him, earnest and unafraid.

"I cannot let you steal one of our horses. I would kill you first," but his resolve faltered or his arm tired, and he lowered his blade as he saw the scimitar glint behind my back.

I stepped forward, and he stepped away. Fear was now plain on his face.

"I say again, I will not hurt you. Now tell me your name,"

The boy remained mute, and I began to pity him. I knelt, and reached out for his blade.

He looked up at me through unruly hair. I nodded to him, "Come now, tell me your name and give me your blade,"

He did as I bade, and I lade the knife in my hands. "Rochirion," he said.

"Ah, so your father must run this fine stable,"

"My father is dead," he said sternly.

I looked up and frowned.

"He was killed in the attack. He told me that I must protect the stable, for it is the only thing that I have left,"

I took the boy's hand in mine, feeling calluses there that could only have come from riding for hours on end.

"I am sorry, Rochirion. That is quite a burden to bear,"

The youth did not move, but I could see in his eyes that he agreed.

I stood, and switched his poor blade out for one of my own. I pulled the finest of the set and bestowed it to him.

"This is my gift to you, Rochirion. It is not much, but it is better suited for your size. It will better protect your stable,"

Rochirion turned the knife in his hands. He stopped when he saw the gold inlay in the hilt.

I lowered my voice to a dramatic whisper. "It will also fetch you enough coin to buy a lesser knife, but enough horse feed for a month…but I would not tell anyone that, if were you,"

Rochirion looked up at me and smiled a little, thanks painting his sullen features. And suddenly a smile sparked in his eyes.

"You speak funnily,"

The remark was so out of place that I nearly choked on my laughter.

"Westron is not my native tongue, Rochirion. I am from Rohan," I told him, now walking down the aisle of the stable. Most of the stalls were empty, as I had suspected, but a few elderly steeds remained.

The boy followed me warily, the knife I had gifted him still in his hand. I realized that I was not going to be able to entrance him with tales of far off lands.

He reminded me of myself.

And so I bent and took his face in my hands, staring into startled eyes the color of amber.

"I am from Rohan, Rochirion. My love for horses is too deep for me to wish one harm. I was born with that love, and it runs," I placed his free hand upon my above my heart, "undying through my veins. I swear to you that I would protect one of your father's horses with my life. And if I had life yet left in my body, I would see that it was returned to you,"

Rochirion's Adam's apple bobbed once, and he looked away. He put the knife in his belt and held out a hand to me. I took it, and he led me to the end of the stable.

In the last stall on the right rested a great black stallion with eyes like opals.

I gasped at the sight of him, at his regal majesty. He was crowned with a white star behind his forelocks, as if he truly was a prince, and his body was a mass of pure muscle and heady strength.

I reached out to the stallion over the stall gate. He blew his hot breath across my knuckles and neighed, and the war horse stepped to me.

Rochirion whistled. I looked at him as the horse lipped my palm.

"He would not let anyone touch him after the attack. He was injured, you see, and that is why the soldiers did not take him with," he told me, and he pointed to a scabbed gash across the stallion's left foreleg.

"What is his name?" I asked, admiring the stallion further. He appeared to be of some southern blood, and he had clearly been bred for speed.

"He is called Fuidhroch by the soldiers, for they say he moves like a shadow before the sun. But my father called him Ellerocco,"

I smiled, and twirled my thumb over the stallion's star. "A fitting name, and kingly, too,"

"My father had always wished for him to be ridden by a King,"

I heard the hesitation accompanying the admiration in the boy's voice. I looked down at him, smiling gently.

"I am a Shieldmaiden, or I was once before. I am no King, but I do protect one,"

Rochirion took a deep breath and bit his lip.

"Father said Ellerocco was bred for war, and that he was not meant to be locked in a stable. And if you are riding to battle, than I think that Ellerocco should go with you,"

I nodded earnestly. "I swear that I shall not fail you, nor your father's spirit, nor Ellerocco, Rochirion,"

And in the boy's eyes was the understanding of a much older man. For war had aged this youth tenfold.

In silence, Rochirion brought forth Ellerocco's tack, all of which was of impressive make. I saddled the stallion and apologized quietly as I bridled him and placed the bit in his mouth, as I had with Meleare.

When at last he was tacked, I made ready to mount him. With one foot in a stirrup, I ran my hand down his neck.

_'Together we shall ride to War. And together, if it is our time, we shall die. As a true Eored,'_

The stallion did not respond with confusion as Meleare first had, for now my craft was honed. I drilled the emotion into his head as much as I did the words, and in return I received a base level of understanding.

I pulled myself up, and when I sat squarely in the foreign saddle, Rochirion handed me a crop.

I shook my head. "I am not his master. I am merely his rider,"

The boy shrugged in indifference.

"Farewell, Rochirion. Thank you for your gift to me, for it is far nobler than any knife,"

The boy blushed, but managed to mumble a farewell.

I gave him an encouraging smile. "May you grow to become a fine stable master, and may you find brighter days ahead,"

And with that, I spurred Ellerocco forward. Into the night we rode, towards a host three days ahead of us.

But as Ellerocco ran, I found no doubt in my mind that we would not reach them in time. For the stallion may have moved like a shadow before the sun, but beneath the moon he passed like a comet, blazing with all the fury of the Heavens.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

Rochand: The original, Sindarin name for Rohan.

Maedeth: Sindarin for 'Skilled Woman'.

Estë: Vala of Grieving.

Rochirion: Sindarin for 'Son of a Horselord'.

Fuidhroch: Sindarin for 'Shadow Horse'.

Ellerocco: Quenya for 'Star Horse'.


	37. Chapter 36: Unbroken Pt 1

In Ellerocco, I had found Meleare's match.

"_And what a riot the two of you would have been," _I said to him, smiling at the memory of my proud mare. A day would not go without me missing her, but I could not find it in me to truly grieve for her any longer.

And as Ellerocco thundered into the North, and towards the wastelands of Morannon, I felt him fill in me the gaping wound that was Meleare's absence.

The stallion took to mind-speak quickly, and though he did not possess anything along the lines of Meleare's sarcastic wit or fierce pride, his company was refreshing. Ellerocco was thoughtful and even-keeled, which I found ironic considering his purpose. To me, he seemed to be more of a gentle giant than a murderous assailant.

As we had passed through a glade some ways north of Minas Tirith, Ellerocco had commented on the state of the passing shrubbery. "_Quite pretty," _was his calm, understated remark, and he shared with me an image of sparrows nesting in the boughs of snowy flowers in late spring.

When we had passed over a hill and beheld the crossing at Cair Andros several leagues away, the stallion depicted a scene in which he splashed about in the river for hours with an unnamed mare, who was garlanded with the same white blossoms he had imagined before.

More often than not, Ellerocco had me laughing as violently as Meleare had.

I was struck by our good fortune as far as our travel was concerned. We had not seen another living soul upon the Northern Road since we had left Minas Tirith, and signs of the enemy were few and scarce.

When we came to the crossing of the Anduin, I, naturally, was surprised to find a great number of Rohirrim camped on either side of the river, as well as many men whom I assumed were from Gondor.

Cloaked and quiet, I approached with caution, but I found myself surrounded by a circle of spears regardless.

"Your name and purpose, or you shall find yourselves at our mercy," one of the soldiers called.

So many of the men now looking at me were shrouded in green and white, all with the tan skin and dark gold hair of Rohan. I had no way of guessing what their reaction would be to my presence.

Heart racing, I swept away my hood and pulled my jewels from my breast, laying them before my mail.

"Tarilyn, I am called, and in haste I am tracking the Host of Aragorn of Gondor and Eomer of Rohan,"

Silence descended upon the crowd I had gathered, and I saw wonder in their eyes. Their weapons lowered at once.

But the silence was quickly broken.

"You are Tarilyn no longer, whore! Your oaths were broken and you abandoned Theoden King on the eave of battle!"

Stunned, I shifted nervously on Ellerocco's back. My eyes as well as many others turned to the speaker.

Murmurs broke out among the men.

"Perhaps we _should_ let her go," a second voice called out. "Death will await her there as much as it would at the hands of justice,"

Ice began to claw at my throat, and though I longed to speak out, I was rendered mute. Ashamed as I never before had been, my head ducked of its own accord.

"I say we keep her here, where she'd be of better use. We can't tie her to the battlefield, but we can tie her to our beds," came a quieter voice.

Harsh laughter met my ears. I continued to wither, now remembering all the many faces of my past tormentors.

"Or you could be silent, and let her pass, as is her right,"

The men fell quiet. I looked up to see a man now passing through the men, and they made way for him in haste.

He stopped before me, and I raised my head entirely.

"Aldor," I gasped, looking over him. I scowled when I saw that his left arm had been amputated at the elbow.

My father's captain looked down at the arm and looked back to offer me a bitter smile. "Tis the price of war,"

He turned then to the men, and with his right hand, he pointed to me.

"It matters not what her titles may have been or may become. What matters are her deeds. And if I recall, it was to this woman that we owed our courage when we routed the enemy in Helm's Deep. If that does not outweigh all the sins she may or may not have committed, than strike me down,"

The men fell quiet, looking now to one another with hesitant looks.

Aldor continued.

"We stand here now as guardians of Cair Andros because we quailed at the thought of falling before the Black Gate. And now I hear that you are to refuse admittance to one who has the courage that we did not possess? Folly, gentleman! Tis true folly."

Some of the men began to fall back, and before me, the soldiers parted to reveal a path to the riverbank.

I rode forward and stopped beside Aldor. He looked up at me, a kindly smile in his eyes.

"Forgive them, child. They are mad with fear,"

"I do forgive them, Aldor. I would not ride to death with bitterness yet in my heart,"

Aldor placed a hand on my knee. "Do you forgive your mother, then, Calahdra?"

His question was sudden, but I found it to be just. I looked to the glinting leaf laying over my heart and nodded. "She was cruel, Aldor, and she was ignorant in the ways of love. But it is to her that I owe my existence, after all,"

Aldor smiled, and he patted my calf one last time. "Fly, child,"

I spurred Ellerocco on, and we galloped over the ford and beyond the Anduin, bending towards the Dagorlad.

It was not long though before I was forced to stop. As Ellerocco had passed into the heart of Ithilien, a sudden bout of nausea came over me.

I remembered Maedeth's words, and fear began to grip me.

When dusk fell between the boughs of the woods of Ithilien, a familiar fever began to boil in my temple.

I continued on, but it seemed that the closer I came to Mordor, the more ill I became.

When weariness began to pass into brief moments of unconsciousness, I broke into Ellerocco's sensory daydream concerning an apple orchard.

"_You must travel northwest, Ellerocco. You must continue to the Black Gate even if I fall asleep. Do you understand?"_

The stallion gave me his affirmation, showing me his rendering of the entrance to Mordor as an intricate, iron-wrought gate in a paddock full of frolicking foals.

"_More or less,"_ I told him.

A moment passed, and as my eyelids began to close once more, I felt his conscious tap on mine.

"_Yes?"_

"My last master called me Elen. For short,"  
_  
"Star? He called you Star?"_

His affirmation was pushed into my mind again, and accompanying it was a memory of a man's voice saying 'Elen' with all the pride in the world.

I smiled for a moment, but sleep caught me again.

I awoke to a low bray. Groggily, I lifted my head from my stallion's neck and looked about.

A league away, a few hundred fire lights glistened in a valley.

"_Good work, Elen," _I told him, patting his neck in praise. I could feel his joy at the edges of my mind.

Straightening, I made as if to stretch. But nausea overwhelmed me yet again.

I dismounted at once and doubled over as cramps gripped my stomach. The acidic sting of bile burned in my throat, and I shivered in exertion as I heaved onto the parched ground.

When at last the episode passed, Ellerocco nudged my back with his nose, neighing lowly.

"_You are very sick, mistress, but you must get up. There is a man nearing," _

I stood at once, drawing my scimitar from where I had stowed it in Ellerocco's saddle.

I knew that the rider my stallion had sensed was most likely a guard, but I was too near to Mordor to be sure. And the sounds of wolves howling nearby awoke the logic laying trapped behind my feverish thoughts.

"Lower your weapon,"

The low voice came from behind me, and I spun at once, blade raised.

A metallic screech sounded out as my stroke was met.

The soldier 's brows raised as he beheld me.

"You are the Shieldmaiden. And you look... ill," he said.

I lowered my blade and stowed it.

"True, to both," I told him, gripping Ellerocco's martingale as another wave of dizziness struck me.

"Come, I will lead you into camp,"

The soldier brought forth his own steed as I mounted up. His skepticism of my ability to ride on my own was clear, and I offered him one of my reigns.

I did not understand why my fortune was so miserable. To have come so far with such luck only to fall ill on the eave of battle... Although I knew that I had Estë's support, I was beginning to feel as if another god was holding some wicked grudge against me.

When I awoke again, it was to the sight of a rather familiar face.

"Aragorn,"

I attempted to smile, but I was not sure that it appeared as such, for my face was beginning to feel as stiff as the rest of my body.

When Aragorn said nothing, my fears returned. I was not sure if I could bear it if _everyone_ had grown to hate me. "Aragorn?" I whispered.

A rather fatherly look suddenly passed over the man's comely face, and his eyes creased at the corners.

"We had prayed that you might have been alive, Calahdra,"

He took my hand in his, and I felt warmth settle into my heart.

With the help of several other soldiers, I was lifted from my saddle. Aragorn held me close to him as my weapons were removed from my person. I heard him whisper to several soldiers, and the sound of hoof beats alerted me to Ellerocco being led away. But beyond that, I was unable to process any further information.

An arm around my waist steered me about. My legs felt gelatinous, and my lids were shading my eyes despite my desperate attempt to stay awake.

When at last I was halted, I felt light prick at my eyes. I lifted my palm before my brow and opened them slowly.

"By the gods," came a voice that I seemed to recognize.

I heard several pairs of feet begin to shuffle towards me, and as my eyes cleared, I could see dark masses appearing from blinding background of yellow light.

I was laid down on a cot before I could truly see them, and I felt Aragorn's cool hand pass over my brow as the blood raced from my head and left me in a land of shadow and silence.


	38. Chapter 36: Unbroken Pt 2

I awoke a little while later, feeling far less ill than I had before. My fever had broken, and when I sat up, I did not swoon with dizziness.

I looked about and found myself in a large, unlit tent lined with several empty cots. At the foot of each was a pile of armor and weaponry.

As I gained my bearings, I heard voices wafting through the canvas walls. Between their whispers, a fire hissed and snapped.

"I do not imagine that anyone has seen him lately," came Aragorn's voice.

"Nay," Came Mithrandir's. "He vanished just before she was found,"

There was a pause in their words, and I laid back down.

"Do you think that he... senses her presence?" Aragorn asked.

"Perhaps. I think it is safe to assume that they were bonded well enough for such to be the case,"

"But Legolas had said that the bond had been severed when they had separated at Dunhar...," Aragorn's words were cut short as a vicious howl sounded from the east. I sat up again, now fully aware of the topic of their conversation and quite rattled by the sound having been so close to the encampment.

A man shifted outside, and Gandalf's voice changed. I could imagine him with his pipe in his mouth, staring thoughtfully at the fire.

"I do not think that it was, Aragorn. For there are some bonds that cannot be broken no matter what may wish to sever them,".

"And if their bond has held, and they love each other yet, what might the future hold for them?" Aragorn asked, and I could tell that his inquiry was as personal to him as it was to me.

"That is for the Gods to decide, Aragorn,"

There was silence for a moment.

A chuckle sounded out, and Aragorn continued. "It is unbelievable, don't you think, that Calahdra's family has such a history of mixed marriages. Three generations of such unions is a thing unheard of,"

I had to agree with Aragorn here. His incredulity matched my own opinions on the subject.

"Unheard of, it is indeed," Gandalf said, "But unbelievable? I am not so sure,"

I could feel Aragorn's unease as he waited for the wizard to continue.

"You yourself know better of this topic than many others. Think back on history, Aragorn. How many unions have been made between elfkind and mankind?"

"It is told that there were three,"

"Indeed, three such unions are written among the myriads of other tales in the histories of the elves. But there are many tales that go unwritten, Aragorn. Does that make them any less true? For the tale of Calahdra's forefathers remains unwritten, and yet she exists regardless..."

"That is true, Gandalf. But perhaps that is simply because it has not been written of yet,"

"No," came the wizards voice, "I do not think that those tales shall ever be written, for they were not of the finesse that might have inspired the great historians of our time. Perhaps later, when it is our time that is told in dance and song, their deeds will shared. But for now, they remain subjects of scrutiny.

"But therein lies the difference. In our time, the unions we know of have been passed down for ages, sculpted and glorified so that they may hold the morals we wish to pass on to our children's children. For Luthien and Beren's tale was spun of suffering and heroics. Surely an impressionable child would be inspired by their courage and their sacrifice. And Idril and Tuor married in the glory of true love, as it is said Imrazor and Mithrellas did. 'True love' is the object of desire of any number of adolescents and unhappy couples, is it not? And these were elves and men of noble lines, and more often than not they fell in love during times of war. Is it not true that out of war, all of the greatest epics are born?"

"History is painted with a biased brush, Aragorn. Would you doubt the one who told you that some stories simply didn't make the cut?"

At once, I was reminded of the Lady Galadriel's words in the water of the Isen. So long ago that conversation seemed, and yet it burned within my mind. So much might have been avoided if only I had remembered her words sooner...

"No, I would not doubt him," Aragorn returned, drawing quiet. "But I would pity those that were the subjects of tales that were left to fade away in the shadows,"

"You would pity those that have found love?" Gandalf asked.

Aragorn chuckled once. "You will never change, Gandalf... Here on the eave of battle you speak in riddles and rhetorical questions that leave the mind boggled. And I am glad of it as I always have been,"

The two shared a moment of laughter, but I felt it fall away as fear enveloped them again.

Footsteps then neared the fire circle, and they halted just beside it. I heard someone stand, and the sound of arms clasping in embrace followed.

"She is inside," came Aragorn's gentle whisper.

The tent flap was pushed aside, and, suddenly wracked with anxiety, I lowered myself into my cot.

Legolas stood in the haze and shadows of the tent. A single shaft of moonlight fell across his face, painting his vibrant eyes a sorrowful gray.

I gasped, and his gaze fell on me at once.

For a moment we were motionless, looking over each other with the same bittersweet expression. In his eyes were all the many emotions I was feeling; relief, pain, adoration, and forgiveness.

My lips parted again, and an almost imperceptible moan fell through them. Legolas strode to me in the preface of a second, and he knelt beside my cot. Whether I had reached for his hands or he had reached for mine, I was not sure, but they laid entangled on my ribs.

"I am so sorry, Calahdra. I am so terribly sorry," he said. And, as suddenly he had appeared, he was weeping, his head bent over my breast as his body shook with noiseless sobs.

Shocked, I pulled a hand free from his and laid it on the back of his head, pulling him closer to me.

"Shh," was all that I could manage. And as his tears continued to fall, our fate became clear to me.

For, as Gandalf had put just minutes before, there were some bonds that could not be broken no matter what tried to sever them. I felt the raw truth in that fact now.

Perhaps we both had pressed it aside, convincing ourselves that we had in fact broken the mithril ties between us. Perhaps we had done so in the hope of abating the pain of the other when at last we had died.

But neither of us _had_ died. We were alive yet, entirely prepared to die again in the coming days.

Time and time again we had been convinced that war would claim us, and yet we loved each other still. Nothing, not war nor harsh words nor any conceivable evil had torn us apart.

Again, my faith in the Valar was renewed.

At the thought of the Valar, I was reminded of my promise to Estë. I looked down at Legolas' golden locks, splayed about him as he continued to weep.

_'I am a healer in arms. I am fearless' _I reminded myself, and all of the trepidation that I had harbored regarding our reunion faded away.

"Shhh... be still, Legolas," I murmured, and slowly I lifted his head from my chest. His reddened eyes met mine, and tears continued to fall from them.

I gave him an encouraging, albeit entirely forced, smile. "I missed you,"

Legolas' eyes twisted up into a smile for a moment, but his face collapsed into a frown a split second later.

"I was so certain that I had lost you, Calahdra. I was sure that even if you were still alive, I would never see you again,"

"And yet here I am," I said, and I ran my thumbs under his eyes. He caught my hands in his again.

"Here you are. And so am I. And if you can forgive me, I will swear to never leave you again,"

Through his marbled irises I stared, blissful in my ability to see into his soul as I had before. I felt the honesty there, as well as the shame and self-loathing. I felt the days he had lived through without me, and the harsh scars that they had left upon the happy memories we had made.

Our past had been marred irrevocably, and yet I still longed so desperately to be with him forever.

And I felt then the change within me. Before, I had simply wished to be happy _with_ him. I had been selfish in my longing for him, childish in my possessiveness. I had merely wanted _Legolas_, and all of the world with him.

And now I wanted so much more. I wanted to make him happy, to place a smile on his face as he done to me so many times before. I wanted a future with him, a home with him, children with him. I wanted to heal his hurts not only on this day, but in a thousand days from now.

I had no doubt that I had loved him before. But I was sure now that I had transcended that love and entered a realm of emotion far greater.

For this elf, I would have done anything. For this elf, I would have roped the stars.

The obvious, yet inexplicable response to this realization fell from my lips, illuminating the shadows we now basked in.

"Marry me,"

Legolas' eyes widened immensely, and I laughed at the sight. A warmth began to spread through my veins, and I reached out to stroke his face.

"We are already betrothed, are we not? All I wish for now is your word that we will marry,"

My elf was suddenly beaming, and he lifted himself up onto my cot. Taking my head in his hands, he began to nod.

"_Yes. Yes, of course,"_

All thought of war or death passed away as I laid in his arms, succumbing to his brilliant kisses. And when at last he pulled away, I grinned up at him.

"_I love you," _I said, pressing into his consciousness the brevity of this consuming truth.

"_As I love you," _And he fell forward over me again, running his lips over my own. His hands searched amongst my tangled hair, and as his tongue delved into my own, he stroked the delicate whorls and faint tips of my ears. Losing myself to his erotic mastery of my body, I moaned.

Legolas pulled away just as I arched towards him.

His devilish smile faded as he ran his finger beneath my eye. I could only imagine the shadows that lay there. "You are so sick, my love. I do not wish to harm you,"

I pouted, hoping to sway his mind. But he held fast, unmoving except for the circling of his palm about my cheek. Giving up, I looked away, gazing thoughtfully at the nothingness of one shadowy corner of the tent.

"It is Sauron, and his wretched shadow. He is eating away at me,"

Legolas gulped, and, from the corner of my eye, I could see him attempt to shield his fear. "Then I must slay Sauron single-handed, for that is my duty as your husband-to-be,"

I nodded, grinning at his forced humor. But his eyes remained shadowed.

"I will manage, love,"

Legolas ran his hands through my matted hair, biting his lip.

The tent flap opened behind us, and we both turned.

Aragorn stood in the shadows, and we attempted to straighten ourselves before he saw our entanglement.

But Aragorn laughed, and came to us anyways. "Well, I am glad that I no longer must worry about the state of things between you two,"

We both smiled at him, and Legolas squeezed my hand.

"Calahdra, would you like to join us at the fire?"

I nodded, and Legolas helped me up. Suddenly, a memory came over me.

"Oh," I breathed, and Legolas seized my middle in alarm, as if he though I might fall.

"Are you well?"

I chuckled at the seriousness of his tone, and I batted his arms away.

"I am fine, Legolas. I just thought that, seeing as how we have nothing left to lose because of it, you may want to tell me about the 'Fellowship' and such,"

Gandalf began to chortle from outside the tent. When we joined him, he raised an eyebrow at Legolas.

"In all the time you spent with her, you failed to find enough to tell her that tale?" the wizard asked, adding a little more weed to his pipe.

"I was hesitant to tell her anything about it because I was under the impression that it was _forbidden_," Legolas replied, a mild dose of sarcasm tinting his voice.

I settled down upon a log beside the fire, and Legolas sat close beside me, one hand on my forearm. As I looked about, I noted that the vast majority of the soldiers were not asleep at this hour either. Fear had settled over the encampment like a fog, and a foul brittleness had crept into the stale air.

Footfalls turned all of our heads, and I watched as Eomer passed into a tent nearby. The sight of him made my heart sputter wildly.

Aragorn reached over to me when the new King had passed inside.

"Do not fear, Calahdra. He knows that you live. I suspect that he will wish to speak to you tomorrow morn,"

I nodded, but looked down at my clasped hands. "I broke my oaths. He has every reason to put me to death,"

Legolas' fingers tightened about my wrist. "He will do no such thing," came his murderous growl.

Gandalf shook his head as if in agreement, and I looked to him. "He knows the reason behind your deeds, Calahdra. We all do,"

Confused, my brow lowered over my eyes.

"Your brother, Calahdra," Aragorn said, pointing to a nearby fire. At it sat Lenwe and Gimli, the two of whom were caught up in a vibrant conversation. I had no doubt that the dwarf was once again telling his well-rehearsed tale of his visit to the Caves of Aglarond.

"He rode out as soon as he brought you to the Houses of Healing. He told us your tale in full, but none of us were sure if you would recover," Aragorn explained.

"_So you abandoned me?" _I called out, teasing my brother.

Lenwe looked over to me and smiled brightly. "_It is good to see you too," _was his reply.

Legolas looked between us. I could feel his many unanswered questions pressing at my mind.

"All is well between us, Legolas. Lenwe has repaid his debt to me many times over," I whispered, and I felt the vice grip on my forearm loosen.

"No one faults you, Calahdra," the wizard said, a gentle sparkle in his eyes.

"If anything," Aragorn said, now stoking the last coals of the fire, "those who know of your feats think far better of you,"

I looked down once more, blushing and abashed.

"But now for our tale," Gandalf said, leaning forward towards me. Having appeared to have spent the last of his pipe-weed, he pulled his pipe from his lips and puffed forth a great ring of silvery smoke.

And in the doldrums of a broken land, beneath a starless sky and a waxing moon, I learned at last of the Fellowship, and of the One Ring, and of the two hobbits on whose shoulders rested the doom of our time.


	39. Chapter 37: Revelations

Amidst the perpetual gloom issued from the Dark land, dawn fell unevenly and abruptly about the encampment. Men, grim and silent, retrieved their armor and horses.

I, too, was silent as I prepared for battle. But it was not fear that rendered me so.

My fever had returned sometime in the hour of early morning, and despite Aragorn's best attempts at harnessing some of his healing power, my illness would not fade. And beyond that I had not slept, nor had I eaten in days. The result was misery.

Legolas, although clearly distressed, was inordinately gracious in his care for me. Though I had half expected him to fight for my removal from battle, no such request came. Instead, he had told me stories of Mirkwood in the safety of the tent.

My initial reaction to the tale of the Fellowship was that of stunned silence. I had hardly managed to believe the story of the Ring, and the thought that it was being carried to Mordor by a pair of Hobbits was beyond befuddling.

But I did not doubt the tale. I was simply overwhelmed by it.

And as I had recovered, Legolas had comforted me with amusing stories of his Childhood and his sisters' exploits.

As he sat cross-legged at my feet, his eyes alight with memory and nostalgia, I realized that never once had he mentioned anything to me of his mother.

"Legolas?" I asked, interrupting a story involving a barn cat, a cask of honey, ans several sacks of feathers. Somehow I could tell how the tale was going to end.

"Are you alright?" He moved to me at once, one hand falling across my brow.

"I am fine, dear. I was just...wondering...,"

Legolas returned to his post at the foot of my bed. "Yes?"

I thought then of my own father, laying comatose upon my parent's marriage bed. I feared then that Legolas mother had suffered a fate such as my father's, and knowing the pain that it caused me to think of him, I was hesitant to confront Legolas.

The partial question was forced through gritted teeth. "Your mother?"

Legolas looked over me with raw discomfort, and I came to regret the inquiry at once.

"She passed into Aman some time ago. It was after her mother was killed in a sack upon one of our outlying settlements,"

"She is still in Valinor?"

Legolas nodded, sweet sadness spilling from his eyes unto his clasped hands.

"Somehow, I know that she has found peace. But that does not keep me from missing her,"

I sat up slowly, mindful of a headache growing between my eyes. Gently, I took his hands in mine, and raised them to my lips.

"You shall see her some day. Eventually, you too shall take the voyage across the sea,"

His eyes flashed up and into mine, burning my silvery gray with his enchanting green. "I will not leave without you. I wold not abandon you,"

Before I could question him further, or share with him the option presented to me by Estë, the tent flap was entered and our peace was demolished.

Aragorn called for a meeting of his captains, and Legolas and I were forced to make ourselves scarce. Together we retrieved our horses, as well as Shadowfax and Brego. Upon seeing me call Ellerocco from the herd, Legolas had placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I am dearly sorry, Calahdra. About Meleare's passing,"

I nodded to him. "Thank you,"

"And who is this?" He asked, extending a hand towards Ellerocco.

And so, as we made our way back to Aragorn's tent with horses in hand, I told him the tale of Rochirion and my new steed.

Upon the completion of the tale, Legolas whistled lowly. "It could only have been fate,"

"Surely," I agreed, hitching my pair of stallions to a tent stake. When I stood, Legolas was quite suddenly beside me. He took me into his arms at once, and in a familiar scene, we hid behind my war horse.

I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in the scent that I had so dearly missed.

"Are you afraid?" he whispered, his lips moving against the crown of my head.

Without any reservations, I shook my head. "Are you?"

I felt a tremble run through his shoulders, and I knew his answer. "How is it that you yet have such blatant courage, Calahdra? How can you march against the forces of Sauron without any reservation?"

I stepped away, and took his jaw in my hands. The look in his eyes was that of a terrified child, and I was determined to beat it out of him.

"As you said before... it is fate. Fate has brought us to this moment. Fate has carried us through innumerable horrors and placed us once again in each others arms. Does that not mean something to you, Legolas? Does that not bring you hope?"

"Yesterday's triumphs do not bring us certainty for today, Calahdra. I thought that you were a firm believer in that,"

"No," I said, dropping my arms to take lace my fingers through his. "No, yesterday is not a guarantee of anything. But the Gods have carried us this far for a reason, Legolas. And fearlessly, I will uncover the reason for it,"

Legolas was quiet for a moment, studious as he examined my scarred hands. When he turned them over, he gently ran his fingers down the scabs running parallel to the veins in my wrists.

"You have suffered so greatly, Calahdra. And yet I such light in you. More light than I first did," He looked back up at me, ardently searching my eyes. "How can that be?"

"A change of heart, perhaps. Or rather, a strengthening of heart,"

Legolas smiled coyly, dropping his gaze to my hands again. His un-braided locks fell over his eyes, as if he was still a careless ellon.

Had I never noticed how boyish he was? Had I not noticed how _adorable_ he was?

Perhaps this was something I had overlooked before. Perhaps it was another breathtaking trait of his that I had merely taken for granted.

I sighed, and I gathered him once more in my arms, kissing his brow once. "Come, love. Battle awaits,"

Hand in hand, we rounded the tent and pushed aside the flap, expecting the meeting to be over and the tent empty. But such was not the case.

Eomer sat upon a stool near Aragorn, his hands crossed in his lap and his head bent. He looked careworn and deeply troubled, and I could not find it in me to feel anything but pity at the sight of him.

Though I continued on, Legolas remained at the entrance of the tent. As I turned to question him, Aragorn swept past me, and stood beside his friend. "We shall leave the two of you in peace," were his words to me.

And as I realized that I was now alone with the new King, I did find myself to be afraid.

When I turned again to look at Eomer, I found that his insipid gaze was still cast upon his hands. I walked to him slowly, and when I was just before his feet, I knelt.

I bent my own head, suddenly feeling heavy with intimidation. "Forgive me, my liege,"

A turgid moment passed, and in it I began to relive my sins.

"_Oathbreaker,"_ A voice breathed within my head, and at first I feared that it was Sauron's. But it was not... it was simply the rebellious musings of the shadow of my old self... a person who I was beginning to realize had been riddled with doubt.

The moment broke when a pair of fingers gripped my chin. I closed my eyes as my face was forced to look up into Eomer's. When they opened, I did not see the fury I had been expecting. I saw only exhaustion painted within a pair of earthen eyes... eyes that were too young to have been crowned King.

"I do forgive you, Calahdra," he said, his voice hoarse even for one speaking the rough tones of Rohirric. "But the trust of your people will be hard to regain, for they would not understand the truths behind your actions,"

Part of me wished to rejoice, but the majority was realistic. Eomer spoke the truth; it was not his blade that I should be wary of.

"The law of Rohan is firm, Calahdra. You are a Shieldmaiden no longer. You have gained my forgiveness and mercy, but I am bound by justice when I say that I must revoke your title,"

A lead weight fell through me, and I felt myself crumple before him in misery.

But Eomer bent before me, now on his knees as well.

"But I am not cruel, Calahdra. And so I ask you this: Will you take the oaths of a Shieldmaiden again?"

I looked up at him, jarred by the tenderness in his voice. He was smiling at me, and I saw once more in him the man I had come to admire.

"Yes, my Lord. Of course,"

Eomer nodded. "I am glad to hear it," He stood quickly, and I, having lost consciousness of anything but his previous words, followed him.

But I stood to fast, and I grew faint again. Blind except to darkness and violent pricks of light, I tumbled headlong into him.

"Woah," he chuckled, and he steadied me. As my head cleared, I realized that he had not let go of me. In fact, he had gathered me into his arms as Legolas had not but a few minutes ago.

I looked up at him, quite alarmed. The moment my eyes met his, he stepped away.

"I am sorry, Calahdra. I didn't mean to..," He gushed, his palms facing me as if I was threatening to kill him.

"There was no harm done," I managed, but the blush on my cheeks must have proved otherwise. Eomer looked down, and he stepped towards me. Carefully, he took my hand in one of his.

His voice was miserably quiet. "I should have been forthright with you far sooner, Calahdra. For I...," and Eomer shook his head, suddenly chortling at himself.

"What?" I demanded, although I already suspected what it was he was going to say.

"I admired you far more than as simply the warrior that you were. I admired you as...well, as a man admires a fine woman,"

I blanched. Legolas had been right.

"_What a fool I was,"_

Eomer continued, speaking now as if he was anything but a King. "I had gotten it into my head that if the War passed and Legolas returned to his homeland...,"

I started at his, but Eomer parried my attempt at scolding him.

"Come now, Calahdra. Is it such a wild thought? For you are indeed a woman... a Lady of the Court in fact, when you're not traipsing about killing things or racing horses. And I was a Marshal, and heir to the thrown. We would have made a fine match...,"

I was stilled, for his logic overthrew me.

It had been an option. A clear path. But that fork in fate had come and passed.

"And now? Where do we stand?" I asked, withdrawing my hand from his.

I saw the last threads of his infatuation break in his eyes. A rather grim smile passed over his lips.

"We are Shieldmaiden and King, loyal servant and just master,"

I myself smiled.

"But there are conditions, Calahdra, that you shall not like,"

My smile slipped away as Eomer sat back on his stool.

"The law is clear in that when a Shieldmaiden breaks her oaths, she is to be killed. I am nullifying this portion of the law. But there are portions that I must adhere to,"

"You are Tarilyn no longer, for all of your titles must be revoked. You must return to me the Shieldmaiden's gem and her garb. And the blade that the oaths were sworn upon must be smelted and cast away,"

I was somewhat relieved as I agreed to these terms, for they were far less foul a fate than death. I returned the ruby pendant to him feeling a little smug.

"And your garb and blade?" he asked.

"They were lost my Lord, when I fell into the Anduin.

Eomer nodded. "Then the terms have been met. When you have dressed, meet me before my tent and your oaths shall be rebound,"

And so Eomer left me, and I, alone now in the gloom of the tent, shed a grateful tear.

Legolas returned a moment later, and he knelt beside me.

"His verdict, Calahdra?"

"I shall be a Shieldmaiden again, and I will _not_ be put to death,"

Legolas smiled as he helped me up. "Then I shall not have to murder Rohan's new King,"

We found our assorted armor on the cot we had been sharing. I undressed to my breeches as Legolas secured the flaps to the tent. When he turned, a possessive grin crossed over his face.

"Mine," he murmured, and he strode forward to lay kisses on my bare shoulders. But he pulled away at once.

"You are very dirty," he expressed, beginning to scrub at the coat of mud caked on my collarbone.

I laughed. "Baths are a luxury, Legolas,"

He nodded once, and raised his head. "What I would give for a bath with you,"

"Alone?" I asked, settling on my cot as my legs began to shake.

"Oh, yes. Most certainly a bath with you _alone_," He said, kneeling before me to lay siege to my neck once more.

"How much time do we have, Legolas?" I breathed, my fingers curling in his hair.

"Enough," he whispered. "An hour,"

_'An hour could be all that I have left with him,'_

My desperation heightened my awareness of his ministrations. And I realized then that even if I was too weak to receive his full attention, he was beyond healthy enough for _my_ attention.

I was subtle in my attack on the laces of his breeches. By the time he noticed what I had done, they had already slipped to rest above his knees.

"Cal," he breathed, and there was no question or wariness in his voice. Instead, he merely let his head fall onto my breast.

"I want you to stand, love" I murmured to him, resting my hands on his hips.

He did as I asked, trembling in the process. I looked up at him for but a second, beholding his bright, wild eyes as he looked over me.

And there, but hours before our final stand, I proved my love for him. With what little skill I possessed in the art -born mostly of lewd conversations between my brothers that I had overheard as a child- I managed in pulling him over and through the definition of pleasure.

When at last he was satisfied, he sank once more to his knees. I pulled him close, nestling my head in his hair. As he began to breathe slower, I licked his essence from my lips, marveling in how entirely comfortable I was in the act.

"I love you," I said, laying a kiss to his ear.

"As I love you," he returned, pulling away to kiss my nose. "Thank you,"

He turned then to sit cross-legged, his back to me. From the pack beside him, he pulled forth a single comb and a pair of leather ties. I, having mastered the art of weaving his intricate braids from our time in Meduseld, set to the task. And when I was finished, we turned so that he could pulled my hair up into its high horsetail.

We then set to dressing each other, silent in the task as we went about our separate ways of mentally preparing for battle. When our weapons were sheathed and our quivers full, we embraced for a final time.

"To whatever end," Legolas said, holding me impossibly close.

And I returned the sentiment, sealing their truth with a soft kiss to his lips.

Lenwe was brought forth as our official Rohirric witness as Eomer read my oaths to me. He himself had not know them as Théoden had, but Gandalf, having pulled wisdom from the air as he often did, had coached the the King in the words before hand.

I knelt before him, head bowed. A crowd had gathered about us, and many men of both Rohan and Gondor looked on. Unlike the last time, where I had pledged myself amidst a field of those who were already dead, I now took the oaths amongst those who were preparing to die.

An ironic cheer ascended into the darkening sky as Lenwe clasped the ruby about my neck once more. With a smile, I clasped hands with Eomer.

But the celebration in miniature was short-lived, for the call to ride out came soon after.

Lenwe embraced me as the crowd dispersed. "I am rather proud of you, little sister,"

"Thank you," And I kissed him on the cheek. I saw in him the same courage that I myself was clinging too; a sort of diligent determination to show no fear before the puppets of Sauron. When we parted, it was without a somber farewell. Rather, we shared a smile before Lenwe was lost amongst the swarming soldiers.

I spent my last few minutes of peace braiding Ellerocco's mane, leaning into him as I broke into a sweat again. I looked up when I caught sight of Arod over my stallion's back. As Legolas adjusted Arod's headpiece, Gimli came to me.

"I've been charged with seeing that you are yet alive... at least, until Legolas can look after you,"

I smirked at the stout dwarf, turning to him as I finished tying off the last of Ellerocco's braids. My lips opened, prepared to scold him, but I stopped short as I saw the look in Gimli's eyes.

"He was so miserable without you, Calahdra. He kept mumbling things about the sea,"

The statement floored me.

Not only was I reminded of Estë's inquiry, but I was also bombarded with painful thoughts of Legolas disappearing into the West without me. I felt my pulse begin to spiral wildly in my chest, and I fought back nausea.

"He spoke of the sea-longing?"

Gimli nodded sternly.

A pair of hands came to rest on my shoulders, and I turned to find Legolas behind me. The recognition in his eyes alerted me to his having overheard.

"It was nothing, Calahdra. Simply an option that I had should I have found out that you truly were...,"

"You cannot tell me that it was nothing, Legolas. That feeling is not supposed to fade,"

I gulped, feeling all at once quite overwhelmed.

"If the War is won, what then shall you do?"

Legolas had no answer, and neither then did I. A horn blast sounded from the east, and the march had begun.

In silence, I mounted Ellerocco. I felt Legolas' eyes boring into my back as I cantered off towards Eomer.

Uncertainty plagued my already addled mind. For I loved Legolas far too much to lose him again, and yet, as before, I was bound by duty to part ways with him.

I had sworn myself to the side of the King, binding myself until death to protect and aid him. And if the War was won, I would be obligated to return to Rohan and stay there until our country was rebuilt.

Would Legolas then take the journey West? Would he disappear from my life again?

And so, consumed by thoughts of the uncertain future, I rode once more to war.


	40. Chapter 38: Burning

Perhaps I deserved this. Perhaps this was the price I would pay for my sins.

And yet this fate seemed so cruel. Such a stark contrast to what I had been expecting; death, like that of all the other soldiers now being mercilessly butchered before the Morannon.

And now I had been gagged. Silenced. Beaten. Tossed over the shoulders of a putrid Uruk-hai. And from the corner of my left eye, I watched as the black steel of the Great Gate passed by.

I had become a spoil of war.

It had all happened so quickly; the slash to my chest. The scream that tore from my lips as I felt jagged metal tear through my flesh. My mental curse as I came to loathing myself for casting my mail away in an attempt to gain agility.

And then the gruff laughs of the Uruk-hai about me as I slumped forward from Ellerocco followed by their frenzied reaction to the realization of who I was when my bare breasts were exposed in the fall.

They spoke in their guttural barks to one another as I screamed. But my noises were lost amongst the din of war. I lost all hope when their fists and weapons fell upon me, bringing me within moments of death.

And now I was being carried into the wastes of Mordor, to be raped and tortured and enslaved until I managed to fade away.

Could I fade, like a true elf? Was that possible what with my 'quartered blood'?- as Sauron had so elegantly put.

For there was no chance of escape or rescue... the battle had turned ill in the same second that it began. We were wholly outnumbered, and exhausted from our travels. And as the filth of Mordor spilled out to claim us, it became clear that only a miracle might have saved us. The chance of anyone being left to merely note my absence amongst the corpses was nonexistent.

Having been carried deep into enemy territory, I was thrown to the ground. I moaned as several cracked ribs gave way beneath the stony, parched earth.

I expected to be turned around, so that I might look into the fearsome eyes of my captors as they set to breaking me. But they did no such thing. My clothes were torn away and my hands were bound, but I laid face down still.

I felt a body hover above me and slowly lower itself down over my bleeding back. Hot breath burned in my left ear. A terrible slur of growls sounded out, and though I could not understand any of it, realization dawned on me.

_'They mean to take me as if I was male...to demean me further,'_

This managed to elicit some amount of anger within me, for I refused to be tamed like some beast. But as I arched my back, ready to fight hand-to-hand even if it meant death, his jagged teeth bared down upon the tender folds of my ear.

I cried out as I felt flesh tear away, and the throb beneath my skull told me that I was losing a great deal of blood.

Several hands pinned me down as I writhed about, and I felt the excitement of my captors raise tenfold as they beheld me in this state of wanton pain. Some of them clawed into my tendons and muscles with their nails, as if drawing blood was appealing to them. Another began to carve long, curling tears in my skin with his blade.

I knew that my time was short; before long, their interest in such bestial foreplay would end. Soon, I would be torn apart beneath their bodies.

I reached within myself with little thought, prepared fully to launch my rage upon them. I had killed creatures with my mind before...why should I not be able to do it again?

But I found no such rage now. My mind was exhausted, having been stretched thin as we had drawn ever closer to Mordor. I had felt Sauron's pressure upon my consciousness grow ever greater after he became aware of our presence. It had taken every inch of my resolve not to fall from Ellerocco in agony even before the battle had started.

And now I had nothing left. I had not even a modicum of strength left with which to protect myself.

I was naked in every sense.

As I grovelled upon the slab of lifeless earth, burning beneath the gazes of the menacing Uruk-hai, my will failed. Gathering myself into a tight ball, I grew silent and motionless. As I suspected, the Uruk-hai grew restless as their entertainment ceased.

One flung himself towards me and grabbed what was left of my knotted hair into his fist. He pulled me this way and that until I was beneath him, crushed under his weight.

And as the foolish creature upon me set to breaking into me, a spark of courage leapt up within my throat. I looked up through blood and filth on my brow and painted stars in the lifeless sky. "A Elbereth Gilthoniel, o menel palan-diriel, le nallon si di'-ngruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos! Im a vinuial ruin. Anno nin no vilui,"

And a curious thing happened. At first, the Uruk-hai were stunned, perhaps by the power of my words and their natural aversion to any mention of the Valar. And then the world began to quake and roar, and all about me grew an atmosphere of destruction.

The Uruk-hai were set in a panic as they gazed towards some far up object. The creature upon my back leaped away, tearing a handful of my hair along with him. And then they began to run.

And I was left upon the ground, completely bewildered and quite near to death. Noise fell to a discomforting quiet and my sight fell to black.

For a moment, a picture of Legolas was implanted in my mind. He was smiling beside me, his eyes so vibrant and piercing. It was a memory... the memory of the morning after we first made love, when he was terrified by the thunder outside and I had wrapped us in my blankets. Such a childish moment, and yet something that simply seemed so... uniquely us.

Was he yet alive? If he was, had he noticed my absence? Was there some chance of him finding me?

Curiosity fueled my actions, and I lifted myself with a fierce scream. Kneeling, I looked about. My eyes burned with the smoke and noxious fumes now drifting about the desert land. But I could see the outline of the Black Gate nearly a quarter mile away, as well as the flow of lava now spewing from deep crevices in the ground.

"_Save me,"_

But there was little hope of that. The world was burning. And I would burn with it.

And yet something within me was burning with a different sort of flame. If Mordor was as it was now because the hobbits, Frodo and Sam, had indeed destroyed the Ring, then the War was won. The world was safe from evil now, and all that was green and good could grow again.

I longed so deeply to live in that world. Every fiber of my being wished to take part in such a healing of the world. I wanted to heal, as well. And I wanted to live all my life by Legolas' side. I wanted, so badly, to bear little blond-headed children.

It did not matter how long I would have to wait to see him or how many nights I would lie awake longing for him to be by my side. All that mattered was that one day, I would be able to find him again and never let go.

I stood, biting back the agony with a choked cry. And with every step, I convinced myself that I was growing closer to Legolas. Yet, with every step, I felt a little more of me fade away.

I was pulled into a blind, senseless stupor. But the image of hope -such a relentless toxin- forced me forward.

And through the smoke and the screams and the consuming chaos, I made my way towards the Gate.

Somehow, whether it was by the will of Estë or by my raging determination to live, I found myself in a ray of light, standing no longer on the crags of the Black Land. When the sun blinded my eyes entirely, I felt as a set of arms fell around me.

And at last I found peace in sleep and a far less malicious dark.

But such peace did not last for long. Nightmares came upon me within time, and eventually even the gentle dark grew cruel and suffocating. My thoughts became increasingly filled with visions of death and cruelty. Like I had been when I had run from Dunharrow, my memories began to merge with insanity. Unnamed demons crawled amongst the horrors I truly had seen, and imagined moments of normality grew to catastrophe as cataclysms warped reality into tragedy.

And suddenly, amidst a scene in which I was forced to brand tattoos of bondage onto Legolas' back, a great light broke through the dark and the horror.

Before me, Estë stood in a shroud of sunlight. And I stood in shock before her, overwhelmed.

"The time has come, Calahdra. War has passed and the future calls. What is your decision? Shall you sail into the West? Or shall you die in the realm of men, to which you are sworn?"

No words would come, for I had no answer to her inquiry.

It didn't seem fair that I was so suddenly being forced  
to declare my own fate. I knew what I wanted, but I also knew what I was bound to choose.

Of course, simply because I chose immortality did not mean that I had to leave my people immediately. In choosing the fate of the elves, I was given the gift of time.

Yet, three quarters of me was sired by horse lords and ladies that had been buried beneath the soil of Rohan. Like the Shieldmaidens of old, was it not expected of me to be buried upon the banks of Snowbourne?

The conflict raged within me without stop, and Estë grew visibly ornery.

"I do not have the time to wait for your decision, Calahdra. It must be made now,"

But I could not bring myself to decide. And Estë faded away, leaving me in a haze of doubt and disappointment.

"Remember this," came her voice, "You remain my vessel to the end of your days,"

And she left with me one gift; my dreams were no longer haunted by Sauron's shadow. Instead, I slept in a scape of gray, free of sorrow or fear.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel, o menel palan-diriel, le nallon si di'-ngruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos! Im a vinuial ruin. Anno nin no vilui.": Sindarin. "O Elbereth Starkindler, from heaven gazing afar, to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death! O look to me, Everwhite! I am the Red Dawn. Be kind to me (Be merciful)."  
Thanks to Morelen for help with the additional translation there!


	41. Chapter 39: Truth

I awoke to a the sound of a frenzied chuckle nearby. I arose at once, snapping upwards with my eyes ablaze.

Two hobbits stared back with terror clear on their faces.

"I told him to be quiet," Pippin said, "But he would not listen a'tall,"

Merry fervently shook his head, slapping Pippin's leg in protest.

I chuckled once at them, imagining their hushed jokes and their attempts to stifle their wild laughter.

I fell back into a plush nest of pillows, rubbing sleep from my eyes with bandaged fists.

_'I am alive,'_ I thought, turning to look at the elegant tassels of a nearby pillow. I ran my fingers through the twined silk, attempting to imagine what sort of place I had been carried to that offered such luxury.

The pair of hobbits had now crossed the room to stand beside my bed.

"Are you well, Calahdra?" Merry asked.

I turned my head and smiled at him. "I believe so, yes. But... where are we?"

"Ithilien, or so we were told. We were all assembled here, to celebrate the victory,"

_'So we were victorious indeed,'_

I looked above Merry's head and to a window. I judged that it was about mid-morning by the look of the sunlight mixing amidst the tree canopy. Silence passed as my thoughts charged about within my head. Grogginess mingled with a general soreness throughout my body.

"We've been charged with looking after you," Pippin explained, his voice filled with discomfort after my silence. "You've been asleep for a week, you know,"

That managed to catch my attention.

"A week?"

"Oh yes. It took Strider and the other surgeons a good bit of time to stitch you back together,"

And then I remembered my ear, my broken ribs, and all the many injuries I had sustained.

My hand traced along my jaw and up into my hair -which was noticeably shorter- until I happened upon a thick bandage.

"Strider didn't want you to see it until he could be with you," Merry said, elbowing Pippin. The hobbit left at once.

I drew myself again and looked down over my body. I had been dressed in a thin white shift that might have been quite revealing if it wasn't for the fact that most of my body was wrapped in linen bandages anyways. I frowned as I pulled my sheets away to look at my legs. They were covered in burns that I had known I had received. Both of my ankles were wrapped as if they had been sprained.

"It's very beautiful here, you know," Merry quipped, as if sensing my growing unease. I looked up at him.

"Is it?"

"Oh yes. Spring has dawned early here, and all the trees have unfurled their leaves. The flowers here are splendid, too," He pointed to a vase standing upon one of the posts at the end of my bed. A lively bouquet of daffodils and ferns had been arranged in a silver column.

"Legolas arranged that for you,"

I gasped despite myself, suddenly overcome by the thought of him being nearby, alive.

Merry took my hand. "He found you, you know. At the Black Gate. He carried you all the way here,"

"Where...where is he now?" I managed, my grip tightening about the hobbit's fingers.

"Taking a walk, perhaps? Aragorn banned him from this room after he sulked in here for three days straight. Or at least, he was banned until you awoke," The hobbit patted my hand understandingly. I ducked my head in a sheepish show of thanks. In the moment, words didn't seem quite right.

We were both quiet until a rap sounded on the door casing. In walked Aragorn, who looked marvelously healthy and gloriously pleased to see me, followed by Pippin. As he swept over to my bedside, the hobbits peeled themselves out of the way to wait at the foot of my bed.

The man took my hands in his and smiled. And I, infected by his charming grin, returned the gesture.

"It is good to have you with us again, Calahdra,"

I nodded, again inexplicably overwhelmed.

"Do you feel well? Doubtless you're still quite jarred by all of these bandages... and those two, of course," he motioned at the hobbits, who quick turned to stare at the ceiling as if they had no notion of what he spoke.

Gently, he began to unwrap the bandages from my forearms. Beneath laid a matrix of scabs and scars, all of which seemed to be healing rather well. My legs, too, seemed to be recovering rapidly from their ailments.

But after ushering the hobbits away to unbandage my torso, Aragorn's expression became one of dismay. As my navel and ribs were revealed, webs of raised wounds curled about the exposed skin, Many had turned black and scarlet with oncoming infection.

And at last came my ear. As Aragorn peeled away each layer of linen, I became increasingly nervous. I was not vain, per say, but the thought of carrying such an obvious injury as the absence of an ear did not sit well with me.

Aragorn placed a hand mirror in my palm with a solemn sigh. Reluctantly, I raised the mirror to my face. A moment of awe settled over me as I noted that my face itself had not been injured at all. But after sweeping away my now chin length bob, I gasped at the stark contrast that what was left of my ear offered to my appearance.

The top third of it was simply gone. What remained looked like that of any normal ear.

And I began to laugh... a hysterical, deafening laugh that had Aragorn testing my forehead for fever.

"It's simply...so...fitting," I managed, clutching at my ribs as I felt them cry out against such misuse.

Perhaps Aragorn understood my meaning, perhaps he did not. Either way he spun at the sound of a knock upon the door, his face blank. I managed to stifle my laughter long enough to look as well.

And there at the door was Legolas, one hand resting against the casing of the door frame, the other carrying a bundle of wildflowers.

My laughter quite suddenly turned to tears. And through the relentless fabric of my weeping, I hardly managed to watch him gather me up in his arms.

"Shhh, my love," He murmured, and eventually his whispered repetition stilled me. Curled about in his arms, I shut my eyes and clutched at his tunic, fearing that at any moment he might slip away.

The morning passed into afternoon, and afternoon slipped into twilight, and still we did not move. Alone, we curled about each other, silent. I dozed in and out of wakefulness and dreams. But never nightmares. In his embrace, I was safe. I was home.

When at last the moon laid its pale rays over us and rain began to fall outside our window, I stirred. Legolas kissed my forehead firmly before sliding me back onto the bed. I watched as he crossed the room and closed the window, shivering as the first crash of lightening sounded some ways away.

As he turned, I attempted to offer him a smile. And though he smiled back, I could see my weakness reflecting his eyes.

Legolas settled on my bed slowly, looking into my eyes with a subtle smile playing behind his own. At first, I assumed that he was feeling only joy, and the thought brought me comfort.

But then he looked down at his hands, now clutching the duvet over my legs. "I thought that this time I had truly lost you, Cal,"

A lone tear trailed over his cheek and around his jaw.

Now it was my turn to hold him tenderly, and despite my injuries, I pulled him tightly to my chest. When my strength did fail, I simply guided him down beside me as I settled into my pillows.

Legolas' hand found its way into my hair. The other clutched at something lying on a chain about his neck.

"I knew what the Uruk-hai had done t...,"

I shook my head fervently, pressing a hand to his mouth.

"Please, let us not speak of it,"

And Legolas obliged. He studied me for a while before shifting nervously.

"You must be tired. I shall call for Aragorn and he can tend to yo...,"

But I shook my head again and gripped his wrist.

"Stay with me, please, and I will sleep,"

I saw the anxiety in his eyes, perhaps at my dull responses and failure to manage a conversation. But I truly was exhausted, and I had no patience with which to remember what had happened during the battle. I was alive, and so was he. And the war was won.

And yet there was so much more than that on which to ponder.

Our days in Ithilien might have seemed to be blessedly perfect. Despite how awful my wounds appeared, they began to heal quickly after I awoke. Within three days, I was free to take walks about the woods.

I often walked with Legolas, but our strolls were quiet and tense. At first he tried heartily to fill in the silence with stories of his childhood or herblore. But I had little to respond with, for my mind was teeming with far darker issues.

Between the pauses of his words, in the minute silence dividing each syllable, Is sensed his longing for the sea. Sometimes I would catch him glancing to the west or singing of some lay mentioning the ocean. And I knew that I could not follow, for in not making the decision, the decision had been made for me.

In the dark, even with Legolas' warm body beside me, I could feel the cool glaze of mortality wash over my limbs. Moments would pass in which a phrase of Sindarin felt foreign and heavy on my tongue. The sight of a bird or a tree would not quite have the same pull upon my soul. Even my bonds with Legolas and Ellerocco -who had survived the battle, much to my pleasure- began to suffer; I felt their consciousnesses slipping away when I became distracted by something mundane.

I feared losing these things -having become such fixtures in my life- forever.

After a while, Legolas too grew silent, and what was left unsaid between us simmered and tainted the beauty of Ithilien.

It was my walks with the hobbits that became most engaging, for they were far more willing to share with me their tales of far off places and the great adventures they had had while on their marvelous 'Quest'. Legolas was quite reluctant to tell me such tales, but Merry and Pippin were wells of terrifying legends and sweeping fables.

I found solace also in keeping watch on Frodo and Sam, who laid in a deep sleep in a cottage much like my own. It was difficult for me to imagine the feats they had accomplished and the hardships they had endured when they looked so youthful in slumber. But I saw the truth of the tales now being told of them in the scars forming upon their bodies. Frodo, much like myself, had the missing appendage to vouch for it.

As the days passed by, I watched as life morphed back into one of normalcy for many people. As soldiers were healed and sent on their way, unofficial celebrations broke out amongst the camps in the woods. Even those of higher rank were known to drink and make merry after nightfall. War seemed to pass away into a shadow of a memory.

Though I was often invited to such events, I always declined. I could not shake the feeling that I had not yet escaped the clutches of darkness. And I could not bring myself to celebrate the passing of a time that had brought so much death and injury to myself and those I loved.

Was it depression that had me in such a state? No, I did not believe so. Instead of feeling empty and devoid of life, I felt heavy with emotions that I simply could not bring myself to express.

As I grew stronger, I began to walk alone. I wandered beneath the boughs of the trees at dawn and at dusk, clinging to the good morning and the farewell of the sun. The sun -the steady, unfailing sun- became an icon of hope for me. It represented that which I was striving for; balance and purpose.

Six days had passed when my regular sunset stroll was interrupted by Lenwe.

We embraced beneath the sweeping fronds of a willow, reveling in the renewal of our friendship.

I was informed by Legolas that he survived only a few hours after I awoke in the elf's arms for the first time in what felt like eternity. But I was dismayed to find out that he had been assigned to running messages to outposts in Gondor after the battle. This was the first time that I had seen him since our farewell.

"I missed you, my sister. I had heard that you had been badly injured, but you seem whole enough now,"

"Indeed," I responded simply, grinning as we began to walk. "How did you fare?"

"From the battle? Perfectly fine. A sprain here and there, but I have healed entirely,"

"I am envious," I told him, brushing aside my hair to show him the state of my ear. Lenwe groaned at the sight.

"I am sorry, Cal. That is no good at all,"

I shook my head in agreement. "But it is fitting don't you think? One ear with no indication of my elven blood, and the other with but a hint of it?" I told him, morbidly amused by the prospect as I had been when I had first beheld the sight.

"Perhaps," Suddenly grim, his gray eyes dipped to watch as the loam beneath our feet passed by.

"Lenwe?" I asked, stopping short.

My brother looked at me with the same bittersweet smirk on his face that our father had so often used. "I have been offered the chance to sail to Valinor, Calahdra. In saving you, the Valar deemed my deeds enough to grant me immortality,"

I stared at him, all at once angry that he still had the opportunity to choose that path when I did not.

"And? What will you choose?"

Lenwe looked away, the last rays of sun glinting off of his steely eyes.

"I do not know. I do not know that I deserve a second a chance,"

"If it is the Valar's will...,"

"I do not give a damn if it is the Valar's will," Lenwe hissed, suddenly turning to me. Violence spouted from his glaring eyes as he shook me by the shoulders. I saw in him the reflection of the man he had once been. Perhaps war had broken through the new facade he had created, letting a little of his former anger and ignorance flow through and out.

But the look faded, and he let go of my shoulders with a disgusted growl. "I am sorry. I do not know what...,"

"Twas nothing,"I told him, sorely hoping to forget the incident entirely.

We rounded a small pond together, speechless as the beauty of the night began to unfold. Lilac shades began to fall over the springtime scene, and a piece of me rejoiced in the glory of this moment.

We settled upon the damp bank, and I drew my knees up to my chest.

"Perhaps I do not wish to go because, unlike you, I have no one to go to Valinor with. I would have no friends or loved ones there. I would be a stranger amongst a people I hardly knew," Lenwe paused to take my hand in his.

"Perhaps, if you went with me...,"

Glowering at the ripples upon the glossy pond, I shook my head once. "I cannot go with you, Lenwe. You would have to sail alone,"

I saw Lenwe's frown from the corner of my eye.

"But, Legolas will sail eventually, will he not? And I had assumed that the two of you were...,"

"I was offered the choice, Lenwe," I said, my voice low with sorrow. "But I was too slow in my choosing. The offer was revoked,"

I felt that he wished to speak further, to protest against this fate. But he was quiet, and eventually I felt him relax as understanding came to him.

"You truly are divided between peoples,"

And I nodded, fighting the urge to cry.

"I am sorry Calahdra. That hardly seems fair at all. To have survived, only to...,"

Lenwe caught himself, perhaps having spied the tears threatening to squeeze out from under my tightly shut eyelids. We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while more until Lenwe offered to see me back to my room.

I came to the door and Lenwe bid me goodnight, but even after he had passed back into the shadows amongst the trees, I did not enter.

Minutes passed in which I stood frozen, riddled with anger and doubt and sorrow. Sweat formed in rows across my brow.

_'It is not fair,'_ I thought, my hands forming claws against the oak door. _'To have come this far only to be further split into pieces,'_

A familiar light began to grow around me, and I turned with a gasp.

The apparition of the Lady Galadriel stood before me. A reproachful look was in her ethereal gaze.

A single hand extended from her snowy robes. "Come, Calahdra. Walk with me,"

I did as she bade, but apprehensively. I had not forgotten her previous words to me, and now they seemed cruel with the truths they had held.

Galadriel did not obey by the various paths that had been made within the forest. Instead, she led me down a deer run. In silence, we made our way to a brook I had not seen before. When we stopped beside a fallen tree, she bade me to sit.

"It has been long since I last saw you, Calahdra. Much has changed you, and much has changed _within_ you,"

I licked my lips nervously, looking anywhere but her. She bent and took my jaw in her hand, forcing my gaze to meet hers.

"War has that affect on all of its victims. Be not ashamed of it,"

Too many people had said similar things to me as of late. I was annoyed by the way it sounded on their lips; condescending and pitying.

And so I scowled at her, rising to match her height. "All my life I have been a soldier, a fighter. I am no victim!"

Galadriel withdrew her hand and stepped away from me, studying my eyes. After a moment or so, she shook her head with a sigh and looked up at the moon.

"There is so little of the Eldar left in you, Calahdra. You have very little time left before it leaves you entirely,"

"But...," I muttered, suddenly stricken with the same frigid vice that had seized me so many times in the last week. "But I love him. I cannot lose him,"

"Then vie for the Valar's understanding! Plead for them to grant you eternity!"

I stepped forward, taking her by the shoulders. "But we will be divided nonetheless! When the celebrations have ended we will return to our Kingdoms, bound by our duty to our people! And how many years will it take to rebuild that which has been lost? Five years? Ten? Twenty perhaps! And what then will my people think of me? When such time has passed and I have not married nor aged nor borne children?

"And what of Legolas? He will be expected to marry now that his task has been completed. Do you think that he, a prince of Mirkwood, could return home with a betrothal ring on his finger without any explanation? No! He'd be married off to the first woman his father could find! Or he would... he would sail away. And I would be left here, to tend to a world in which I will fade away as mortality takes its toll...,"

I took a deep breath, exhausted by my sudden rant.

"I was a fool for ever believing that our love could withstand fate,"

And that was the truth. There it was, laying in the open, no longer threatening my very sanity as it built up within me.

But Galadriel shook her head. "You are wrong, Calahdra. Perhaps you are a fool... but not a fool for the reason you claim,"

I looked up at her, confused.

"Your people love you, Calahdra. You have given them everything. You have already laid your very life down for them. You may be bound to your King's side and your people, but they too are bound to _you_. That is the way of such things, my dear. Would you not agree that they owe you many boons? Have faith that they will accept the path you choose,"

"The same holds true for Legolas' people, Calahdra. And if there is pressure on him to marry and produce heirs, than it is his duty to provide his people with the truth; that he is bound to another, and in time they will receive what it is that they seek,"

Galadriel smiled, and she took my hand in hers. "You have aged in many ways, Calahdra. But in some ways you have not yet grown. For you have yet embraced the virtues of faith and hope and patience. Would you not agree?"

I thought on this for a while. And it dawned on me that she was entirely correct. I had grown too quickly in a world that already lacked such vital ideals. War often had that affect on the generations it stole.

"Duty is duty, Calahdra. Few people can claim to have bound themselves to a cause as noble as that which you have fought for. But love transcends even that. To be loved and find the courage to love in return is the most noble act of all,"

I watched as Galadriel drifted away into the pale moonlight. And I was alone, left to mull over so much.

By the time I found my way back to my cottage, my truth had been replaced with Galadriel's. Would I sue for the Valar's empathy? Perhaps. For now I would force myself to find the will to celebrate.

I awoke the next morning to find myself alone. It was the first time that such a thing had occurred and a great rush of fear settled washed me.

Were Legolas and I so hard pressed to find a common ground that he had taken to abandoning me?

When I had at last settled into bed, he was already fast asleep, exhausted by whatever activities he had partaken in during the day. And though I at last longed to speak with him, I couldn't bring myself to wake him.

My fears were put aside when Legolas returned within minutes of my waking. A great smile was plastered to his face. The affect was glowing and angelic... and deeply arousing.

It had been a long time since I had felt such a heat build in my chest.

"Frodo and Sam are awake, Calahdra. Come, you must meet them,"

I did not move, though. Still struck by a sense of seduction, I could not bring myself to register his words.

"Cal?" he asked, settling next to me.

And I could not resist. I leaned in, tearing at his lips with my own. At first, he was unresponsive, and I darted my tongue in between his lips in an attempt to awaken him. But he pulled away, and a bemused look had ruined the affect of his smile.

"Why did you do that? Are we...," I began, gulping spontaneously. "Have we grown apart?"

Legolas frowned as he took my face into his hand. It took him a moment to answer; a moment in which my blood seemed to broil behind my eyes with fear.

"No, Calahdra. I do not think so. But there are many choices we must make. And I... I think we are both afraid to meet the next fork in the road,"

"It's not that I don't welcome your kisses, my love," he murmured, kissing my good ear. "But I was somewhat shocked, I think. I haven't gotten the feeling that you have been all that interested in me as of late,"

I nodded, my gaze falling to my hands. "I've not been well, Legolas. I'm sorry that I haven't been more...open,"

"You were gravely injured Calahdra. You were tortured. You have been shaken, my love. Do not apologize for that,"

A hitch in his voice caused me to look up, and I saw an unfathomable darkness settle over his face.

"I wish I could erase all of it, Calahdra. I wish none of it had ever happened,"

His honesty broke apart the dam within me, and clarity came to me at last.

For better or for worse, whatever the events of the past had resulted in was irrevocable. Had this not been the theme of our relationship from the start? And here we were, faced with this truth again.

But I refused to think of this now, when our saviors were awake and well.

"Come," I said, pushing him off of my bed as I rose. "Dress me,"

His brows raised. "It has been too long since I heard that tone in your voice,"

"You'll come to rue the day it returned, most likely," I told him, padding over to the chest at the foot of my bed.

Legolas began to laugh, clearly overjoyed.

When at last I was dressed in a pair of sapphire robes, we set out hand in hand. And for a moment, bound by such a simple touch, the future did not seem to be quite so menacing.

For now, the only truth that mattered was that we were in love.


	42. Chapter 40: Dawn

Three days had passed since I had first met the hobbits Frodo and Sam and the celebrations upon the Field of Cormallen had begun. Three days of mirth and joy they had been, filled with good food, good company, and -having reforged all that had suffered between Legolas and I- good sex. If anything had even been slightly amiss in those hours, I had overlooked them entirely.

But such joy had been lost the moment Eomer asked for my council.

I had entered his dwellings in a glorious mood, prepared for praise or the need of my advice.

My hopes were crushed by Eomer's request.

"In a few weeks time Aragorn will return to Minas Tirith for his coronation. It was requested that I attend and I obliged. With me will travel the majority of what Rohirrim we have assembled here,"

I nodded, beginning to feel apprehensive about what it was he was going to ask of me.

"…owyn has been recovering in Minas Tirith, as you know, and Théoden's body rests there as well. Preparations will be made for his return, but that may take some time,"

I nodded again, silently begging him to simply voice his reply.

"I have need of an envoy in Rohan to prepare for our return. I must have someone I trust in Meduseld to oversee the country until my return,"

I gulped, now beginning to shake. "You wish for me to return to Rohan,"

Eomer nodded. "Within the week,"

I looked to the ground as the world crashed about me. "Very well, my liege. I shall make myself ready to take leave,"

I spent the remainder of the day in the limbs of a beech tree, staring blankly at the great cottony clouds rolling overhead. I was disappointed in myself for not seeking out Legolas, but I could not bring myself to move. I was petrified by the very thought of leaving.

I was found out soon enough. Lenwe joined me on a nearby limb, careful not disturb my reverie. But I was no longer content with silence.

"How is it that you can do that? You always manage to _find_ me,"

Lenwe smiled, brushing away a rather leafy branch before laying down. "Brotherly intuition, I guess,"

"So, what with this 'intuition', you would know that I am leaving?"

Lenwe hid his surprise poorly. "Indeed, I did,"

I huffed and turned away. "Liar,"

Lenwe let me brood for several minutes before reaching out to brush my shoulder.

"Calahdra?"

"Yes?"

"Take my place. Sail to Valinor in my stead,"

Shocked, I whipped my head around to stare at him.

"I... I have no need of immortality. I would rather give it to you," A simple sadness burned in his eyes, but I felt the honesty in his voice.

"Lenwe... truly? Is that even possible?"

My brother nodded. "Estë... she came to me again, asking for my answer. And I told her that I could not sail. I told her that I chose mortality. And then I asked her if you could go in my stead, so that you might have Legolas. And she told me that it was an honorable thing to do; sacrificing eternity so that you might be able to love him forever,"

Tears fell from my eyes. "Lenwe, that means...so much. More than you shall ever know,"

He crept over to me as I cried and he gathered me in his arms. When at last my bittersweet joy had subsided, Lenwe patted my back tenderly.

"Go to Legolas. Tell him,"

And I did, running like a child through the forest. When I did not find him at our cottage, I tried the stables. When I could not find him there, I searched the gardens he had been overseeing. But he was missing from there, too.

I went then to Aragorn's dwellings, thinking that even if Legolas was not there, I might ask Aragorn where he was. But the house was empty and locked. Gimli's abode was in a similar state.

Befuddled, I followed the path Galadriel had led me down. Upon the same log I had sat upon several nights ago, I sat in meditation. But I simply could not think of where Legolas might have escaped to.

I did not meander back to my house until sunset, praying wildly that Legolas would be there when I returned. But he was not.

Merry, however, was. He stood outside my door, looking highly anxious and jumpy.

"I am to give you message. I am to tell you to bathe, dress in what has been laid on your bed, and then come to the parade grounds. Do not deviate from this plan or Gandalf shall curse you utterly,"

"Oh," I replied weakly as he bounded away.

I entered hesitantly and went to my bed. Laying there was a stunning gown of dark plum and gold. A golden brooch in the shape of Rohan's iconic horse laid there also.

My tub had been filled recently, for it was still steaming. I bathed quickly but thoroughly, grateful for such luxury, yet still confused.

I dressed quickly as well, suddenly feeling as though I was preparing for an oncoming battle. When at last I was ready, I took a great breath.

The way to the great lawn was oddly empty. Normally soldiers and healers were going to and fro at all times of the day.

My pulse began to quicken.

When at last I came in sight of the clearing to the lawn, the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon, casting the world in a lavender glow. Mourning doves cried out as night descended.

And when I rounded the clearing, the world was lit by candlelight. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the multitudes of people now gathered there.

A great cheer went up around me. A mixture of Westron, Rohirric, a hint of Sindarin, and somewhere even the growl of dwarvish all called what I assumed was 'Surprise!'.

And then I realized that they were cheering for me.

I clasped my hands over my mouth, overcome by the sheer number of people now calling my name.

Behind me sounded a voice that was more welcome than all the rest.

"Calahdra?"

I turned to find Legolas before me, dressed in a regal tunic of deep green embroidered with gold.

"Did you do this?" I asked. And Legolas nodded.

I stepped forward to take his hands into mine.

"I may kill you for this some day, my love,"

And Legolas laughed, turning so that he stood beside me. Raising my hand with his own, he looked out over the masses.

"Here now is Calahdra of Rohan, a greater Shieldmaiden than history can ever claim to know. Let this night be hers!"

And another cheer slipped out into the night before the music began. And I realized now that all of the healers and woman who had been attending to the soldiers were in their best arrays, prepared for a night of celebration as well.

"Dance with me?" Legolas murmured, now taking my waist.

I reached up to run my hand through his hair. With a fierce smile, I pecked his lips with my own. "Always,"

The night spun on, and somewhere between the drinking and the laughter and the feasting I managed to slip away with Legolas for a little while. I had danced with many different people many times, but not nearly enough with Legolas.

We sat beneath a tree, cross-legged and facing one another.

"I will never forget this night, Calahdra. It is simply too beautiful, too perfect to forget,"

The hint of grief in his voice indicated what it was he wished to speak of. For it was clear that he knew I was soon going to be sent away.

My words fell from my mouth in a rush. "Lenwe has given me his immortality, Legolas. We can be together forever, if you wish it,"

His eyes widened, seemingly swept away by this admission. "That... that is marvelous, Cal, but...,"

"But we will be separated nonetheless, for I am to leave within the week for Rohan,"

I realized that my nails had torn into his wrists when he pulled them away with a shake.

"I knew that Eomer would ask it of you," he said quietly. He looked back up at me with a grin. "I knew that he could not be trusted,"

I blushed and looked away. Slowly, a frown began to fall over my face.

"No. Do not do that," Legolas said, drawing me into his lap. "You are too pretty not to smile,"

"How long would we be apart? Rather, how long could I bare to be away from you?" I murmured.

"However long it takes. Five, maybe ten years seems like a small price to pay to have you by my side forever,"

It seemed that he too had been troubled by the same thoughts that had plagued me.

I breathed deep, feeling rather small.

"Your people deserve better than me,"

Legolas whipped around to stare me in the eyes. "Is that your concern? That they will not approve of you?"

"It is one of many concerns, yes,"

Legolas laughed a joyless laugh. "Do not fear that, my dear. They have every reason to adore you. Did I not tell that to you in our first days together?"

Now his hands began to claw into mine. "Will Eomer release you from service, though?"

"He owes me that much," Far more bravery entered my voice then I truly could claim to have on the subject.

We were quiet for a little while more, enraptured by the call of an owl perched somewhere above us. But then Legolas was pushing me from his lap. "Come, I must make an announcement,"

And so I followed him back to the lawn and to our seats at the banquet table we had eaten at. As he sat, many others took their seats as if on cue.

Legolas took one of my hands in his while the other tapped a spoon against a wine goblet. When the grounds fell silent, Legolas rose, trailing his fingers up my arm until they rested on my shoulder.

"Friends and strangers! My family by the blood we have spilled before the Gates of Mordor! For many nights we have danced beneath the stars, relishing in our victory. We have made merry and feasted and tasted the finest of wines. But this night, I say to you, shall be the greatest,"

I looked up at Legolas, then to the crowd, and then back at Legolas. The faces before him seemed entirely comfortable... expectant, even. I, however, had no notion of where he was taking this speech.

"Many weeks ago I came to the land of Rohan with no intention of finding what I now claim to have. The aims of my quest were nowhere near that of love, and yet love is what I found,"

Legolas looked down at me, his eyes smiling brightly as his hand ran through my hair.

His voice quiet and his eyes still bound to mine, he continued. "For many years I had walked this earth and never thought of love. It was... distant to me. A word that I knew well but that I could not find the meaning for. There was nothing to attach to this word... not a name, nor a face, nor even a shadow. There were moments where I wondered whether it truly existed...

"Like many things, though, you often happen upon the greatest moments of your life when you least expect it,"

I watched as Legolas' hand went to his collar, and I noticed then a chain about his neck that I had paid no attention to at all in the last few weeks.

And as he pulled the chain from his tunic, he said to me; "And that is how I came across you, my love,"

As if time itself had been absorbing all the wine we ourselves had partaken in, the world grew slow and drowsy. Legolas' arm extended towards me as Aragorn's whisper commanded me to stand. And when my legs at last stood firmly beneath me, Legolas' fist opened.

On his palm laid two silver rings.

It took me a moment to process what these tokens implied, for my mind seemed to be plagued by this decay of time as well.

And then I gasped, suddenly stricken by the words he had not yet spoken.

Legolas, visibly broiling with emotion, quickly spoke to me in Sindarin "I have been told by King Eomer that this is not at all how it is done in Rohan, but I figured that if you chose to live among my people, where eternity shall be yours to spend with me... if you so choose... then my people's customs would serve the same purpose,"

"Why... why would I not choose this?" I asked, my tone a hint accusatory.

But Legolas laughed, and took my waist into his hands. He removed one for only a moment so as to place a ring in my own hand.

"You know the vows, do you not?"

I nodded, suddenly beaming at him while resisting the urge to sob violently in his arms.

"Le annon gorf gelebren hen a veleth nîn, a gweston le bestad,"

And as he slid silver loop onto my ring finger, he repeated the vow aloud in commanding Westron. "I give you this silver ring with my love, and I promise to marry you,"

I repeated the words, embarrassed when I could not maintain the same level of bold confidence in my voice that Legolas had.

But Legolas stole away my fears when his mouth claimed mine. As he ran his hands through my hair, I could feel the cold edge of his ring graze across my ruined ear.

Something about the moment almost seemed imaginary, as if nothing but a dream could have been able to awaken such emotion within me.

Yet I knew that it was real... that I was in fact betrothed in every way to the man standing before me, and the roar of the crowd was in fact a testament to their love of a happy ending.

It was not a happy ending, though. Truly, it was not an ending at all. The end of one life, yes. But it was also the birth of the life to come.

Like before, it took my mind a moment to realize that the moans sounding out were my own. And upon realizing this, I laughed once. Legolas hands moved up to my navel, clearly expecting for an explanation.

"I can't imagine that our neighbors are very pleased right now," I murmured.

"Merry and Pippin?" Legolas asked, his voice entering my ears from behind. I flexed in his bare lap, suddenly uncomfortable.

"They are our neighbors?"

"Oh yes. But I believe that they were still drinking when we left,"

His hands fell lower, resuming their masterful ministrations. Simultaneously, my mewling started up again. That was until I gasped at the feeling of icy metal meeting hot flesh.

"Hmm," Legolas considered. "Perhaps I should have taken that off,"

And as he twisted around to place his ring on the nightstand, I grew restless.

"Where ever did you get them?" I asked.

Legolas chuckled lowly, and the raw sexuality of the sound nearly had me regretting interrupting him.

"You are awful distracted tonight, kitten. What is it that I'm doing wrong?"

I turned around to kneel before him. As I brushed my fingers up his thigh, I stared him down."Nothing. You're doing nothing wrong. But I've had a bit to drink and a lot to think about,"

Fire flashed in his eyes, and I glanced down once between his legs. Confronted with the sight there, I bit my lower lip and forced myself to look back up at him.

"Answer me, Legolas,"

He gulped once, readjusting his grip on the quilt beneath him.

"Early this morning, I rode out with Gimli. We happened upon a fief soon enough, and the blacksmith there was happy to share some of his work with us. With a dwarf watching his work, I'm sure he was eager to prove his skill,"

I smiled, twirling my own ring about my finger. "I'll have to thank Gimli for that,"

"But," I continued, frowning, "Wherever did you find the money?"

Legolas glanced over to his pile of weapons and armor near the door. Absent from its place beside his bow was his set of curved blades.

"Legolas," I breathed, reaching out to take his hand.

But he shook his head. "It was a small price to pay in order to have you as my bride forever,"

I ducked my head, blushing at the thought of earning the title of wife.

Legolas lifted my chin and pulled me close. "It is the truth, dear," And he brushed his nose against mine. The seemingly innocent touch suddenly had me yearning for more of him.

And so, no longer distracted, I pressed on with him until daybreak.

A day and a night passed. And I stood beside Ellerocco, waiting as my guard of Rohirrim made ready to ride.

The sun was just begin to pass up over the evergreens and the birch, but a chill was still clinging to the air. Or so I assumed, for I shivered within my cloak without stop.

That was until a pair of arms gathered me up.

"I will miss you," I murmured.

"I will miss you," returned a haunted voice.

I looked up into green and blonde, for a moment confusing his face for the sunlight and forest canopy above us.

"It will not feel so long to you after a while. Immortality brings that gift, Calahdra. The lines of time begin to blur,"

I reached up to kiss him, and Legolas obliged.

"_I would miss you even if you were gone for but a minute,"_

Lips turned up beneath my own. But it was a bittersweet smile, burdened with the years of loneliness we had not yet tasted.

Legolas stepped away as Eomer neared, and I turned to address my King. I took the scroll that was offered to me.

"I have written out your instructions and my permission for you to act as regent in my stead. If I have left anything out, I trust you to act with your best judgment,"

I nodded, and raised my hand to salute Eomer. But I found myself embraced by him instead.

When he pulled away, I studied him intently.

"You are family to …owyn and I, Calahdra," he stated simply. And then at last he did salute me.

Aragorn came next to see me off, and he embraced me as well.

"I shall miss you dearly, Calahdra. I shall always look fondly on the time I have spent with you,"

I nodded at him, overcome by the thought of him becoming King.

"I shall visit Minas Tirith as often as I can," I said.

"And you shall be treated as a queen whenever you do,"

I turned then to see the top of Gimli's head. I looked down with a smile for the dwarf.

"Farewell, lass," he said sadly. And I knelt to take his hand in mine.

"Take good care of Legolas for me, Gimli," My voice cracked as I said this, and I turned my face aside as I bit back tears.

Gimli patted my hand. "I will Cal. I will,"

Gandalf stood some ways away, as he had in all the days I had known him. A pillar of wisdom he had been, but also a mystery. I nodded to him once, and he winked at me in return. It seemed to me to be a fitting goodbye.

And lastly came the hobbits, who I could not claim to know at all as well as I might of hoped. I gave each a kiss upon the cheek as they said farewell. For Frodo, I gave him two kisses.

By then my riders had assembled, and it seemed that the time had come.

Legolas took me into his arms one last time before I mounted up.

"May you carry with you all of my heart,"

Looking down at him from atop Ellerocco, a final shiver ran through me.

"And may I return it to you soon,"

"_Namarie,"_ came his voice as I called out to my Rohirrim.

"_Namarie," _A farewell that meant so much more than a single word might ever have managed to tell. I spurred my stallion on.

And the golden boughs of Ithilien passed on either side of me as I bounded into the West. Before long, we exited the forest entirely and raced across the plains of Gondor.

I so deeply wished that I could say that I was making the journey home.

But that was a lie, for there would be now home for me until we were reunited. In the coming years that would divide us, I would remain a vagabond at heart.

It seemed cruel, and for a while I had believed that my fate was cruel.

Such was not the case. For I had been gifted with so many blessings. Legolas was one of them. My brother, now riding beside me, was another. And Ellerocco, sharing with me his very tame exploits in Ithilien, was a gift as well.

But the greatest gift of all was not anyone of these people, nor the jewels about my neck or the ring about my finger. The greatest gift was finding myself.

For I was Calahdra, Shieldmaiden of Rohan and Sword of Estë. A soldier in arms and a healer at heart. A woman of Rohan and a Maiden of the Elves.

And eventually I would be wife of Legolas Thranduilion, princess of Greenwood the Great.

It was as painful a thought as it was glorious.

Yet, as I rode into the sunshine and the wind, the pain dulled. Again, I became a rider of Rohan, a horsewoman of my rugged people. Here was my second life, laying out before me on the horizon. With every hoof beat, I grew closer to the future. With every breath, the gap closed just a little more.

Love, after all, was undying. That which had transcended death and hate and lies could certainly withstand time.

And though the dawn passed on into morning and the sun rose above our heads, the promise of another dawn and another day remained.

_Fin._


	43. SURPRISE!

It's been several months since Ever and Ever came to its close.

My news is this: a sequel of sorts is in the works.

I say "of sorts" because the next major work I have planned does not feature Calahdra or Legolas as main characters. Rather, as some of you know, I have set out to right an Eomer and Lothiriel story. In my version of their meeting and marriage, Cal and Lego with play major roles.

I must warn you that many of you will not at first like what I have done. Two years will have passed in which they have not seen each other and have had only minimal contact via letters. Their bond, though still strong enough, weakens every day. Their old demons (including those of Legolas), will come to play behind the curtains of Eomer and Lothiriel's romance.

I did promise that a massive revision would occur before a sequel, but my plans changed when inspiration finally hit. I hope to begin the revision process in tandem with the postings of the sequel. As of right now, a good ¼ of Ever and Ever is 'revamped'.

I should have a posting up before the end of next week. Until then, adieu.


End file.
